A Poem For Today - Tenuous Paradise
KEN DICKINSON
Tenuous Paradise
Between bouts of being hounded by agents of the Mega Energy supply company—men calling from Mumbai or Bengalaru who identify themselves without the sound of a smirk as John Marshall and Harry Johnson—I am enjoying a blotch of days off.Kind of. I have felt self-hushed for a few days now. On walks, I whisper to the dogs c'mon, this way. Soft commands. Barely above suggestion.Swaths of tan-green helicopter seeds pile onto the sidewalks and into the windshield wells. The sunlight pulses in that passing-over-of-clouds manner. We circle the block.Back home, a breeze too slight to feel fills the sheer curtains.I'm reminded of jellyfish billowing in their tank at the aquarium. A sign next to them calls what the jellies do—their movement—passive energy recapture.It only works at low speeds.No one believes me when I tell them I'm working
Jacob Boyd