Nibble Of Kibble

Man is a nibble of kibble of Nature,

the merest nibble of kibble to Ma.

I turn off the radio, classical music,

grand, but not like the wind outside,

whipping up to a wicked storm.

Man is so little a nibble, I laugh.

And Mother Nature laughs as well.

What a little nibble! She snorts,

palm trees bending in half.

She laughs her ass off, Ha! Ha! Ha!

You and your fucking Anthropocene!

Have coal, will travel, says Mr. Man,

have oil as well, have nuclear fission, 

fusion, the works.

You’re a small part she says, blowing.

One small part, you small shit.

(From time to time She feels quite profane,

thinks about taking off roofs.)