Friday, March 2, 2018

The Dungeness Deposit

Bears upturn suburban garbage cans,
Bottles clutter the sides of wilderness trails.
Lines and borders tend to bleed together.
Fences, laws, and tariffs tend to fail.

I pluck a rock from the mountains,
And cast it to earth across the bay.
Will it matter much to either place?

My intuition says the rock requires mourning.
Oh, ancient emblem of gradual entropy!
More likely it is me who grasps for meaning:
Projecting, imposing, imagining tragedy.

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