poem about stuff

[some_stars]

There are two areas of this that I don't think are very good, but for obvious reasons it's difficult to edit. Thoughts are welcome.


Observation on the Morning

The mushrooms stood like soldier bowls.
They marched in place to keep the song,
In military order. Brave
They were, and mashed to pulp before
They had a chance to step foot wrong.
This is the world we are meant to save,

The one bearing so much wide grief
It has no center. No begin,
No gristle-bones. No lips or tongue.
No bit to hold between your teeth
And keep your ribs from caving in.
No thin white hair. Bent-backed, it rubs

The rough spots, worrying its skin
Away. Entire peoples vanish
From the earth, wrapped in white sheets.
The rust breeds ants, and ants crawl in.
The rust that kisses lovely man
To bones. We made it incomplete,

We made it hasty. We had better
Jobs to do. I loved you so much,
Like the stiff, thick grass that grows
On trod ground. Alphabets love letters
Like the way I loved your touch.
You lingered acrid in my nose

Like chili juice on fingertips.
The world is not what it was once.
But save it. Put your back into it.
Punch the gravel. Chew your lip.
Because you and I have a hunch
That no one else will ever do it.