everyone wants
the best kind of life,
even a bird sitting on
a branch of a tree
in a part of Patagonia
that had never been torched for oil
fair enough i suppose,
all of us have our hopes,
all of us like fine sunrises
to blaze across the land
slave labour abolished,
so here’s a toast
to all the dreams
we still come up with
dressed in holy
church collapsed wonder
rocking all over
like liquid sunshine,
we demand an age
of flowers and kisses
in big heap love kingdoms
expanding everywhere;
toast life in the daily
invisibilities
of inter-communication
and we shall receive
- from Poems from the 90s
