Farming Tomorrow

No fickle sun warms

unfurling leaves,

A slow ballet danced

To the din of tomorrow

Coming into its kingdom,

On silicone hills under

electric skies

Robots mourn lost loves;

This is what they lusted

after

All their efficient lives,

The earnest types always

building

Utopia where it isn't wanted,

A world for sale neatly

wrapped

In plastic, signifying nothing,

People, dumb as beasts

yoked

To work where dollar bills,

green

As poison apples grow on

trees

May 2016