Emancipate the Free
Liberate North America from indefatigable public relations
firms leveraging full Freud in reverse to infuse your brain
with make-believe to exacerbate your uncontainable desires.
Liberate Tecumseh and his shaman brother Tenskwatawa
by traveling back to stand on a sand ridge in the old swamp
drained of time when sodbusting the new-world was in vogue.
Separate metropolitan hybrids from moron arias of supremacy
with the Greyhound bus still leaving Kansas City in the 1950s
while the old paradigm waves hello-goodbye then slams its door.
Free the found landmasses from hostile takeovers from above,
for running on know-nothing chemistry would be no defense
of ignorance when we’re rescuing the ordeal from the ordeal.
Strike inhabited continents with the presence of alternatives.
Set sail on the breaking sea without vanishing at the horizon.
Let seawater ride on the deep ache for giving redwoods the vote.
Disenthrall darker sins from servicing hero worship of morons
who’re keeping people’s money. Elevate hippos with spoonbills.
Clear the way for the First Amendment antelopes racing across
your savannah. Unfetter your wherewithal so your lions provide
and chimps break the ice in the antitheater. Free Peter Abelard
from willful arrogance driving us off the sharp cliff of daily effects.
Presence on Earth
Robert McCauley and colleagues at Curtin U. in Perth, Australia, recorded vocal
fish in coastal waters off Port Hedland in W. Australia over an 18-month period,
and identified seven distinct fish choruses, happening at dawn and at dusk.
– Greta Keenan, The New Scientist
Don’t tell me the fish in the ocean
can’t feel what happens to them.
Hook a fish, and she’ll fight for her freedom.
Remove her from seawater
and she’s like a person pulled down
into crushing dark where she’ll thrash for breath.
Don’t feed me the doctrine of animals as nature’s machinery.
Female rats set up communes, babysitting for one another.
Corvids gather on branches over a fallen brother or sister.
Please don’t defend meat on the menu by claiming exceptionalism
or that state-of-the-art ordinance is a sign we should eat animals.
If you believe your life is on the line, that you must devour animal
parts just to keep your own head out of the guillotine, good news –
you do not require a mandatory daily allotment of animal carcass.
In the defense of muscle ingestion, don’t swear pigs have no idea,
that they aren’t evolving like us. If chickens see other chickens
sacrificed on the altar of hunger, don’t you think they notice?
Maybe the cows trust you’ll feed them. But do they race
onto the truck that’ll dump them off at the butchers?
Please don’t swear that your cattle are dying to be ground
into hamburger, or the Canadian geese flying over can’t wait
to be shot down. Think of the terror the animals must perceive
coming from raw human hunger causing them to avoid us.
At the store, haven’t you detected the blood scent on meat aisles?
If we stopped devouring animals, would we see more peace
in the world? Would we trust one another more with our lives?
Do You Know Where Your Entanglement Is?
Something immeasurable may be going on in the night sky.
It could be the sort of thing that moves faster than sense.
It may be altering the script with a drive for unlimited growth
from the smallest to most pronounced elemental point of view,
with change going on the way an old-growth redwood forest will
transform the weather – all the trees, all of their cells at once.
A scientist on NOVA estimated that there are “many times more
trees on Earth than there are stars in our galaxy.” And so picture
every working cell in every live part and extension of all the trees.
Observe every cell selecting what it needs from inner circulation.
We’ve found ourselves with the gift of consciousness and meaning.
and it’s germinating fast in the company of dangerous irrelevance.
A mushroom crowns for a vast body that mostly remains unseen.
Excuse me, at this busy time, while I kiss the Queen Anne’s Lace.
There are too many pitiful cases of attempted disallowed honesty,
too many prehistorical gangs of pyroclastic Nero-worshippers
plucking hypnagogic glory tunes on their massive red-hot lyres
while wildfire bursts up over the horizon and spreads into the city.
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