Assessing Our Half-Year June 2017 Poem by Daniel Brick

How mechanical it all seems:
I can hear gears and pullies
groaning and stretching to make
ends meet. It's more irritating

disappointing. We are not
in the age we imagined would be
our generation's triumph, its apogee.
So why should I care if something

artificial fails? They should have
realized only something organic
connected to something else organic
can raise us. It's a fool's gambit

to pretend our collective thoughts
cohere so perfectly they become
a form of action in the world.
Which is to say, Angels Hover Everywhere.

What can we do until the time
is ripe? We can write and recite
our poems, we can visit our sick ones,
we can be giddy in our summer delights.