song of trees without names

now that time has run out for the quickburning past
o muse you will just have to wing it
explanations solutions are crumbling fast
there is nothing to do but to sing it

sometimes we pretend to imagine the end
in a poetry workshop we tried it
I wrote a joke poem and shared it with a friend
so easy it was to deride it

my friend made a list of the things she would miss
it wasn't exhaustive at all
it was every leaf branch every cloud every fish
every kiosk locked up in the mall

this morning the ashes of trees without names
are falling on parched earth and pavement
get up now and sing something tangled and strange
it won't help but that's not what I meant