Life on the Five Gyres

Plastic island Edens
Of the dusty future
When the hot selection

Tournaments will go on
Simultaneously
In underground machines

And among the floating
Neuston—you won’t be here
For any of that, if

Any of that happens.
It’s already half past,
As futures always are,

Since you must predict them
By extrapolating
Along trajectories

Looking back through now pasts.
Trash and the past—the past
Extrapolating trash

Until it becomes clear
That now there’s another,
Alien past. Future.