In perspective
we are all lowly creatures,
the descendents of monkeys
who have grown up
to unleash savage greed
upon a planet, stricken
with poverty and suffering
and memories of our fathers' childhoods
when they were beaten with iron
and fingernails rotted
yellow and green
as obselescent claws
became an inconvenient memory
in the cyberscape.

So much, did we think this:
the drama of things,
of one world 
orbitting one star, 
an insignificant speck
in an insignificant galaxy
tucked somewhere in three-space
overlooked
by hyperevolved thought-forms
alien to us,
beyond even our dreams.
And beyond them, 
the dreams of the timeless.

Sinking down
through the suffering
of torture,
of flesh prodded and motivated
in perverse manipulation
of evolution's schemata --
the universal accident --
through the old lady who,
through embarassment,
hid her diaper sores,
shame burning worse than pain;
through the kitten that cried,
hungry and alone
on the streets of Manhattan
having no voice 
to express
his terror,
how insignificant does it seem,
the broken skin
and red drips of blood
of a finger 
bloodied in a train bathroom
and the primal howl
of its owner
trapped in the ill-made construction
his brain heavy 
with thoughts, evaporating
into entropy
through insanity
for they mean as nothing
as he sulks to himself
over his one love
in thirty-three trips round
that insignificant star
and how worthless he is
and how unwanted
and how worthless everything is,
for to be with her
is the only thing 
he ever wished.

How idiotic 
and foolish,
to have affection for someone,
a shapeless form in a sea of thoughts,
never to be solid
only projections
that the Zen addicts
coveted
and into which all should fade.

How foolish
and idiotic,
to wish love
and alliance
based on gender,
on evolution's ultimate weapon
until machines would make
the monkeys obselete