The pitch of the world
has gotten higher, more
steady, more frantic,
more like a shriek,
maybe like wailing
toddlers. Restrained
only by mortality, we are
such a mischievous species
misbehaving—put us back
in the dusty playpen;
Homo sapiens isn’t mature
enough to participate
in the universe,
but what on earth
is expected, God being
a single parent and all?