Selected Poems

When all the blankets have gone to hell

We are frozen
(despite our furs).

(Dante would have loved it.)

Once,
we had many empires
(the Internet, the factory farm, countries true and brave).

Let us whistle
(in unison)
our tunes of extinction

(the chewing of the last dirge).

Jellyfish, too, are a cult
(watch them evaporate).

Jody Azzouni