This poem goes out to those lives and communities where climate disasters wreak havoc, especially those suffering in the chasm between those who have the wherewithal to recover and those who don’t. May we be good neighbors to each other and Mother Earth.
De-construction Jobs
Climate chaos rains supreme
Yielding fateful knews
Of coming grave whether
The hows still standing
Those that have
Assurance
Have brought a bout
A boom
In construction
And those that have not
What just
Remains
Fore sail
An other kind
Of Jōb
Re-manned to the pauper authorities
Re: construct
Or bust
A small chide unherd
If soully a village razing
Their after
Wrests in piece
Some wear ails
Whither work to be undone
