A handwritten appeal: one shows respect
by speaking honestly. The landscape
is losing patience. My faith
erodes. Your words
are incremental: liquid, ghosts, pure
resilience. This natural history
of the senses.
Lithosphere: this fabric of muscle, bone;
of bodies, maps,
As Dionne Brand wrote: a harmolodic
for the bruised planet. This path of centuries,
and respect. Deforestation, reigns. A tool
sits coolly in the earth: misplaced,
interred by time, and silt,
ten thousand lunar cycles. How can we live
if all else dies?
They can’t take it with them,
I guess. The world’s lungs
fill up with smoke.
is obvious. You resist, for ecological health
and mutual respect, and in response, they place you
in a cold, dark room.
Injunctions, plead. Prompt: once more
unto the breach, my friend, once more.
Or close up the wall with our earthly dead.