Bucket Brigade


A voice says, enough!
Grass stands up, rock
raises its hand, paper
collects nouns, & wind
passes water–anger,
empathy, hope. Thought-
balloons between strangers,
non-conditional & axiomatic,
ring the streets with kisses
& stings. Sentences sing
from crowd to sphere,
what Whitman would call
a barbaric yawp over
the roofs of the world.
Lopsided & smoking,
this untranslatable planet
disseminates voices,
chains, & buckets.