Joshua Keiter

There was a moment sitting in front of 
the TV with ninety five percent of
the planet also watching the same thing 
it seemed mass communication would solve 
all the world’s problems bring us together 
solve hunger by throwing money at it
the problem was we kept inventing more 
ways of massively communicating 
some did not think hunger was a problem
now I regard screens reasonably sure 
ninety five percent of the other screens 
could not even tune into this channel 
the one that nostalgia plays on repeat 
tiny fragments stay alone incomplete

Everything is on the verge of being 
so much more awful and normal right now
easy to neglect the headlines shouting 
each one is more important than the last 
when they are just the latest version of 
summer repeats the long running building 
collapse the casual insurrections 
sabotaging how people are counted 
the ones who took the wait and see approach 
seeing their way into the waiting room 
followed by the ER if they’re lucky 
ninety nine percent doing something wrong 
the silent majority full of shit 
the rest of us just getting back to it

The providence of coincidence when 
making connections at a shared event 
not enough to say that it’s a small world 
we already knew that butterfly caused 
the heat dome enveloping continents 
billionaires shooting themselves into space
(regrettably still encased by a ship) 
ultimately negates correlation 
each soul inhabited by the others 
we may be fortunate enough to meet 
when least expected which we may expect 
if we happen to arrive at the same 
place we come to the point of departure 
recognized by glue as much as fracture

We walked to the lake where we heard there would 
be live music maybe a crowd people 
assembled or scattered or not breathing 
close to each other uncomfortably 
or not we stayed to listen to a song 
we knew from the nineties something about 
love me something about fool me something 
about not caring about anything 
too facile to say we forgot about 
statues taken down in another part 
of the state we are not yet accustomed 
to say we live in without personal 
experience it all seems too abstract 
suddenly there’s too much to be exact

The storms passed through as all storms do these days 
suddenly without warning expected 
the phantom buzz on your phone leg every 
time precipitation accumulates 
intimating more dangerous weather 
that almost surely comes sooner rather 
than later this is the way the world ends 
with a notification we ignore 
because the alternative is checking 
our devices so often that nothing 
matters other than anticipation 
resigned to this constant present moment 
it might rain today if it passes by 
everything we think we know is a lie

Watching sci-fi on the television 
reminds me of those months I was living 
inside my own vision or delusion 
whichever came first (often it was both) 
of being projected into the past 
or into the dark future on spaceships 
where all life on earth was being erased 
as part of some plan that I helped create 
with idle thoughts someone read in my head 
that despite my protests I could not stop 
as images flickered on silver screens 
entire books I would quote verbatim 
static manic panic insists is truth 
nightmares continue without need for proof

The days sadly tending to molasses 
how hot will it get before the warnings 
accustomed to deteriorating 
conditions as the families walk by 
the closed window with their babies and pets 
sometimes only their unheard huffing breath 
who decides the weather is right to run
an unnecessary option at best 
not that the HVAC is our salvation 
it only runs until it needs repair 
not unlike this our gutted broken world 
we tried to make uninhabitable 
despite our worst efforts and unchecked greed 
if heat is the goal then we did succeed

Reminders from a year ago stronger 
now that the identifiable glow 
still lights up on a pixelated screen 
intimating how far we have to go 
to make reality more than a dream 
history having had its eyes on you 
dares not look away for fear of missing 
the part in the story where it gets told 
reframing figures to make a new show 
the world marched upside down to perform in 
turns out it still spins before it begins 
to create the world we all belong in 
the work still takes place outside of this box 
stories are the key that breaks all the locks