the apple trees died last winter sitting on the front porch watching the bird bath go green with time’s CO2 no apples no birds they went away forever until three years from now it’s times like this when i think of Dr. Hawking and his warning to Geneva in a most conventional way we don’t know what we don’t but we know we shouldn’t  but still we do being made in His image what does it mean when we create in tubes surpassing victor frankenstein shriveled are the avenues showered in teeny asteroids that take our minds to the false heaven while we float in our own shit and we land hard but we won’t cure cancer and while the pipelines feed our need to ride free man i mean really free at what cost and my wild beasts are wild no more floating away on sheets of ice as seen on tv on the front porches of the brownstones on Union Avenue  i miss the apples