The end of the world didn’t come this year
maybe next if we’d be so unlucky.
We flounder, searching for expressions
to announce our dread of what’s to come.
It is spectacle, hysterical reporting,
politically inspired zealots
on the evening news, keep awake —
boogies, imaginary implants —
supplanting our fear of the woodchuck
rummaging in our garden.
Kent Bowker
6/2/2012
I enjoyed this poem. It demonstrates the healthy skepticism you have. Are you familiar with Barbara Hubbard. Bring her name up to me the next time we meet. I read her book “2012 And Beyond.”