But first, this little note about ecotourism. When I find articles like this one that offer "green" hotels--tree-hugging optional (!)--I find myself back in the familiar arguments about whether ecological awareness and action is compatible with capitalism. My own vote: We're going to have to change. I should write more about that, but I've got to keep moving, so I'll leave you with this poem.
Bright Day, Dark Web
It’s spring and all and I keep dreaming of dying things,
not a good dream for a day when young humans strip
to light cotton, loft Frisbees into budded thickets.
The cube in the park roughs out with rust,
the koi pond thickens with algae beards.
Mated pairs hunt the newly hatched offspring
of other mated pairs. Worms and insects flood
to the surface, are seized by thrashers, grackles.
Hearts and stomachs stack the atmosphere miles high.
I’m swimming in birdlife, in a sea of blood and fluids.
I am a spine angled over a screen among spines
out following a certain lively tilt toward the sun.
A line of tiny purple flowers blooms
above the waistband of a biker’s nylon shorts.
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