Isthmus
Log, narrow strip between two
Seas of salt, seas of land, one
Dispensation and the next bridged
By this handspan white as snow.
Or dust in drought. An ancient
Colonization slowed on Beringia
Almost to a standstill presses on
Like wind in grasses. Thin strips
Become wide swathes of ocean.
Straits we inhabit. And continents
Are pieces scientists move around.
To the least of custodians go
The new land leases. Whereas
Ways that save us all are held
In reserve. To move from one
Sight to the next, heft this
Weight to another shoulder,
Break the false promise that all
Floods will end, that we’ll master
Land and creature. Cross this
Bridge, call out sister and
Fall dizzily through fog into
New incarnations. Species
Range limits. Begin here.
South Gone
Log, bees make beelines. Gone
South or south gone. Hard to
Figure. Familiar stripes of geese
Head where we imagine creatures
Thrive. Not this tailings pond in
Athabasca. Global south where
Most of the world is made
Possible. Where whales berth
In the sea of Cortez and form
Trans-species pods of killer, blue,
Grey, splay or straight-finned
Swimming alive to the swell.
You say. Where pelicans find
Nesting places, dolphins haze
And frolic and blue of sky
Becomes water just at the cloud
Bank dragging its feet. We keep
Northbound. Try and leave this
Carnage where birds must go
Face it. Imagine all the prodigal
People, hoping only to
Escape every human mistake.
Seatac Sunset
Log, swear to seeing sea from
Here framed in a multicellular
Window. Buoys in bobbing
Swells. Back when planes lined
Up like ducks. Sound then strait
Then ocean. Sand dollars break
Inland, so too arthritic plates
With the first mountainous
Slide into shards of continent.
These poor joints. Walk the
Length of Laramidia from
Mexico to Alaska, west of
Sea where another sun rises
Nearish. Fossils are the record
Of this impossible divagation
Though we know the fathoms
Deep. Shallow in words of seas.
A window in memory points
To a perfect sunset unheeded by
Passengers, under-awed by flight.
Giant myopic glasses in hindsight.
Photograph © texturepalace
