




Upon the housefly planet
the fate of the human is grim:
for what he does here to the housefly,
the fly does there unto him.
To paper with honey cover
the humans there adhere,
while others are doomed to hover
near death in vapid beer.
However, one practice of humans
the flies will not undertake:
they will not bake us in muffins
nor swallow us by mistake.



The 10 years just passing, as we all must realize if we are being honest with ourselves, constituted the hinge decade, the decade when something substantial had to be done if the world were going to avoid the exponential catastrophe into which we have now embarked. (You can't go on sagely noting, year after year, that we have only 10 years left within which to confront the crisis, without at some point those 10 years having run out.) Perhaps we could have done both: honored the victims of 9/11 while at the same time tending to the far greater devastation bearing down on us. The point is that, obviously, we weren't able to, and in almost every conceivable way, the result has been an utterly squandered decade...
