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Remember when I said I had leftover inspiration, and that it felt like leveling up, if I knew what that meant? Well, I no longer feel like that. There were some poem shards, earlier today, but now they haven’t come together to reflect anything, so. Well.

On Sundays, every other, I drive to work and listen to RadioLab. I drive extra slow and sometime I am late because I can’t stop listening. This Sunday there was a program about different ways of looking at the afterlife, and one of the eleven or so segments featured a scientist who specialized in the “future fossils”. That means he studies what might be leftover millions of years from now.

Tonight’s poem came from that. Also, I got to hang out with my brother earlier tonight, and that was soulfeed.  And, I think he’d like to think about future fossils too.

so, poem:

Future Fossils

The shape of paper will remain, but the rest will vanish.                                            Concrete is expected to survive, but crumble,                                                                    and the oil paintings, good clay pots, and photographs will all turn to carbon. Nothing of record will play.

The voices we’ve put down will last an age only. The statues might hold up, if the rain gets clean. But not the baseballs, the awards, or the very important art. Not the weavings or the compositions.

Not the dance, not the rehearsal, not the power, not the surrender, not the currency or the debt.

All that resides resides in earth, and nothing lasts

but the shape of things will last in sand.


I wrote that too fast again, but that’s okay. I have all day tomorrow to write another. How are you, poemfriends? Happy Monday 🙂