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Dear sad ducks. Dear boats and truck.
Dear long barn in the fallow field.
Dear vines in winter. Dear deer & such—
Dear powerlines in a slow valley.
Dear unnamed ranges on the smoggy skyline:
hills like fists or narwhals or loaves of bread.
Dear hawk and thicket, scaup pecking
the puddly traffic island; dear racetrack,
dear gimcrack & so on—
Dear green tractor in lemongrass.
Dear kestrel and red-tailed hawk,
wobbly pink shed just off the road.
Dear arroyos, toyon, oyster-nacre ocean:
Now that I have your attention
I ask you only to be in the sun as you are.
Hold down the bowl of the sky with your shapes,
Hold this earth a while longer
as you swim in my vision—
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The vast hinterlands of the Global South’s cities are generating new solidarities and ideas of what counts as a life worth living.
Protests in China are shining a light not only on the country’s draconian population management but restrictions on workers everywhere.
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