Tuatara

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I’m from an ancient bloodline,

patient and pensive,

and to my surprise,

time flies,

regardless of whether or not

you’re having fun.

Everyone I related to

left long ago,

and all that remains

are these fraud lizards,

with my third eye,

I see right through them.

Meanwhile,

here I am,

in exile,

under a rock.

I’m from an ancient bloodline,

strong and tenacious,

I spend my days digging trenches,

eating spiders

and hissing at tourists,

what a complete indignity.

My ancestors,

walked shoulder-to-shoulder

with giants and beasts,

now that there’s finally some room to breathe,

It seems there’s less space for us than ever.

I’m from an ancient bloodline

peaceful and wise,

and for old times sake,

I’d like to revisit the Halcyon days,

and have the sun blocked out once more,

an equal playing field.

Trust me on this,

the world needs it.

ERROR 404: NOT FOUND

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Please erase me.

Take me across the bridge

to nowhere,

and watch me fade away,

erase me.

Nowhere, I’d rather be

lost in the fog,

cloaked in grey,

wandering down the winding-path

into obscurity,

please erase me.

It’s not enough to be

far away.

It’s not enough to be

covered up.

It’s not enough to be

crossed out.

Please, please

erase me.

Mimivirus

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One-track minded

parasite zombie

ceaselessly wandering-

a quest

for it’s first and final victim.

A connection is made,

and mimivirus loses a part of itself,

to its gracious,

blissfully ignorant amoeba host,

and all seems well.

Yet time drags on,

as it always does,

and new beginnings

take shape.

Their union,

which seemed to be

the start of a beautiful relationship,

evolves into a

one-sided,

ruthlessly efficient,

hostile takeover.

The host

works tirelessly

to support the demands of its

new partner,

specified in its ancient tome-

it’s lengthy genome.

Exhausted

from the hard work of transcribing

the words dictated to it,

by a steady stream of multiplying messengers,

the host,

burns out, falls down,

and breaks open,

it has nothing left to give them.

The host bequeaths unto it’s amoeba brother’s and sister’s,

A horde

of eager virions

ready to march,

leave their marks,

and begin their life’s work.

Their parent would be proud,

of the legacy of destruction,

their progeny

will leave.

Wading For It

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Beware of any oasis,

because nowhere in this world of oddities,

will you cross the same river twice.

Try, try, try, as you might,

leaning into the current,

cannot bring you to the past-

grasping for the rain drops,

will not help you

stand steady and weather a storm.

No matter how torn,

you may feel,

there are times you must leave it all behind,

you’ll know it when you see it.

But so be it,

and fear not,

you never have to leave green pastures,

if you can bring them with you,

in tempests and torrents,

deserts, meadows, canyons, summits.

So long as you’re still going,

you are always exactly

where you need to be.

If you’re a fish out of water,

I really hope you’re a mudskipper.

Microplastics

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Even in crystalline

waterways,

you will find

traces

of traces,

that divide with time

but never disappear.

They have multiplied recently,

added up immensely,

but won’t be subtracted.

Humanity has left fingerprints,

evidence,

Of wastefulness,

And decadence.

Washed-out facial scrubs,

Crushed-up soda bottles,

And toys discarded long ago,

All have lost their usefulness,

Yet refuse to decay.

All have altered Earth’s circulation,

Left her face mottled,

Bruised, and scarred.

Think twice before throwing things away,

Just because you can’t see something,

Doesn’t mean it won’t stay.

Paper Tiger Meets Straw Dog

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Paper tigers are

saber rattlers,

neighbor tattlers,

favored whiners and

major prattlers that

savor decline,

yet cannot fight.

To do away

with a roaring beast

only to find a

fragile fraidy cat

in its place

should not be surprising.

Sometimes stripes are earned,

sometimes they are merely projected.

Straw dogs are routinely discarded,

after their special day,

not because they deserve this,

but because this is their purpose.

Dressed to the nines,

blessed and

lest we forget

left in the street

once their mission is complete.

No matter how many times,

they are thrown away,

straw dogs return another day,

to be a display,

that cannot stay.