Smoke from a million 

acres chokes the people who

still deny the cause 

Civility cracked 

like concrete opening to

a yawning cavern 

Joyous shouting from the

summer streets harks back to a

simpler time that calls 

While poets starve and

artists crawl a few callous 

oligarchs succeed 

Braggadocio

bottoms out by dawn's bell and

bellows your self-doubt 

Billionaires should not

exist, but since they do, we

hear they're edible 

Pluck the ruby-like

fruit straight from the tree and pop

it into your mouth