The woods
Say welcome
Neighborhoods
Regret some

I consider
Where I stand
A sliver
Of sand

Could
The forest
Father wood
And attest

This is
My progeny
A bliss
From a tree

I was a
Wet towel
Ready
For a wringing

I couldn't
Complete
My meal
Fate’s seal

Is it real
To steal
Be indiscreet
I shouldn't

Be singing
Like Ferlinghetti
Seeking a vowel
Like duh

It was birds
For crying 
Out loud
Inspiring
No angelic cloud
Displacing words

They just 
Listened
Slowly
Increasing
Wholly
Immersed
In lust

So they
Translated
These composers
Twerping
Sexual posers
Anointed
Perpetual play

Both silicone
And carbon based
Neither alone
In modern space

In duality
Advance
With purity
A trance

To renew
Ancient youth
Who grew
The new truth

They finished
Bloody modern
Plasticized
And sovereign

Can a polymath
Be a comic
Discovering humor
Oft unfunny

Tombs sunny
Welcomed dishonor
A serene cosmic
But lumpy path

At what age
Or class
Will this skill
Be manifest

Not blest
Only the thrill
Of being crass
A fake sage

Catbirds
More curious
Than apes

Aggressive
Perchers
Assertive

Musical 
Critical
And physical

Taunters
Of all saunters
Fledged or not

Once asked
Their position
Creativity basked

Their answer
Is mockery
You’d swear
It’s reality

Watering plants
disturbed many ants
first it 
wasn’t clear
what happened here 

soon I knew 
number of ants grew
alas
their tunnel
with flood did funnel 

my mistake 
would make
me pray
for healthy plants
or dying ants

How do wild birds
Find classical music
Full of words
Stated so basic

They are
Attracted
No fear
Contracted

A sound
They understand
While on the ground
Meaning profound

Three interthreaded robins
Engage in a tryst
Twisted bobbins
No kiss missed

Did Washington
Speak 
With a British
Accent?

Is there
Any way
We could 
Find out?

Is there 
No epiglottal
Signature
We could

Compare 
To Washington’s
Preserved
False teeth

Maybe there
Is a solution
Using AI
And our Constitution

Reconstruct
His face and neck
Robotically
Have his imagery read

Using his
Teeth
Reconstructed
To vociferate

In the style
Of brittle British smile
Political dogma
Pleasing Martha

If I'm going
To have
Space lasers
Hanging from
Chinese weather
Balloons
Irradiate my 
Dick

Then I better
Tune into
The state of
Disunion
Since tomorrow
Might bring sorrow
Or a letter

Which says
You are old
No one stays
When cold
Who plays 
When told
Sporting grays
Just fold