I was fifteen years old
When I found the moon in the Biabanak sand dunes.
A New Generation of West Pointers Joins America’s Hopeless Wars
Samsara’s in every in-breath, each shutter click of attention: first warning
signs of famine, children lining up
for the soldiers’ candy
The season was autumn. Threads of smoke
unwound from the chimneys. Every compass pointed
Goodbye elephant bird
Who frightened Sinbad.
Curleau, lapwing, crake.
Goodbye mascarene coot.
Sorry we never had a chance to meet.
In the 1940s, Rachel Carson began developing an ethic of wonder that stood at the centre of her ecological philosophy.
The only connection I felt to the mills
was to the children of a generation of flayed men
on unemployment, the storefronts boarded…