No more Seattle, before it

Was crucial, bright as the memory

Of a one-hundred-eight-degree dawn

Straight from the tarmac and three

Football field towers of kerosene

For airplanes—

When those tall trees and that

Cool rain fade into hot sand, we

Will feel the scars of loss

Looking across our hot faces, our

Empty-handed expressions will waste

No time becoming indelible, welded 

To our characters—

They say the wilderness is 

Pristine, ravishing, unspoiled, or

Was that before the heat-dome

Made explicit the bell-jar cast

Over us by the “all for ourselves

Nothing for anyone else” maxim

Described by Adam Smith—

I guess we can smile, at least

Money is a mere construct


The life-sustaining global ecosystem that we depend on to survive needs people to fight for its right to exist. My work is for this fight.


I am an artist in Seattle, WA, USA. I am working to make poems to increase public consciousness of the climate catastrophe.

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