I found these in a water-damaged folder left over from stuff I forgot
to throw away the last time I moved.

-----

Man!  That flaunted work of art
Of a genius, who would start
By forming a mold of symmetry and proportion, then
Placing in it a mind of unspoken
Danger and possibilities:  the capacity
To love, hate, comfort, frighten, and destroy all humanity.

This, he thought, would be his masterpiece!
He was so proud of it, he would not cease
To improve upon it, giving it creativity:
An ability to be feared, for its possibility
For abuse and violence was palpable;
But even so, he gave it more.  Laughable!

He gave it wit and a sense of humor,
Making it the ultimate consumer;
For now it could wreak havoc with impunity!
It now had no sense of what was good, or pure lunacy.
This made it callous, an instrument of destruction;
An instrument in its own demise, having no other useful function.

-----

A beautiful tree
With leaves spread wide and thick;
A healthy tree, ripe with fruit;
Yearning, wanting someone who needs--

A family of chipmunks lives there,
Resting, contented and happy, foraging now and then.
Larger rodents move in:  feral raccoons, eager for violence;
Chasing away the chipmunks; ravaging, destroying, plundering--

The fruit is gone, and the tree slightly wilted, sorrowful.
The chipmunks return to the destruction, and leave again, pained;
The tree stands alone, yearning,
Standing there, slowly dying, rotting away--

The leaves are gone now, and the branches bare,
With nary a one to notice or care.
The tree, with a sigh, topples to the ground;
With no more hope, sorrowful peace has it found.

Damon Casale, .sigless again.
scyth@andrew.cmu.edu