The atmosphere
is a room
we cannot step out of
without grotesque costs
and monumental difficulties,
to a very limited extent

The atmosphere
is the growing bed in which we are grown
alongside roundworms, ticks & dragonflies

The atmosphere
is the terrarium
where we crawl about
in greedy thoughts, lofty philosophies
& household chores

The atmosphere
is our artificial respiration
in the breathlessly breathless & vast;
our incubator & respirator

...but it is also here we suffocate,
– presumptuous & obtuse,
home-blind & clamorous –
when truth is intrusive & hügel-bedded,
bokashi-cultivated & warm-composted,
while the chimneys stand like meerkats
& startled bitterns on the horizons