This is the place we once were,

Life is a run-on sentence.

There are no absolute stops, no silence that is perfect.
The snow, done being snow,
scratches and rubs against itself, internally,
makes a sound as it melts
and the dirt makes the way
for that cool sip of water

Even death is not complete,
For from the moment
my last breath enters the air
I have already begun
the gradual descent
returning

Who will take on my pieces?
That last breath was inhaled
by the flowers at my side who didn't know
they, too, were dying
Cut off from the root


(On Gutting a Fish)
A strange transformation went over me, as I grasped the fish firmly in my capable hands. Out of its element, I am the master, the decider. Before it bit the hook, we were an equal match, it and I... It swims too fast for me to snatch. A fish any slower would've been eaten extinct by now. A fish might have once kept its population healthy and strong, had I been an ancient human stabbing at it with my stick. I would practice throwing and angle, and the fish would practice narrow evasions and quickness.

But the fish has had less of a chance to adapt to our new invention, the hook.
Then the net.
Then the sonar-sonic depth sensors and high-speed fishing boats.
The ocean's life will never die, but it is poorer...
Lines of the myths
from the ocean's ancestors
forgotten,
without an heir to pass it onto,
which is what extinction is, really.


There seem to be plenty of sunnies in this lake.
I went along with killing the fish.
They were planning on eating it, and just like that,
this scaly, gasping creature in my hands was now a food-source, a task.
After its last breaths, I would work
(Like the worms will later do on me)
on converting this body into food.

We're never that many steps above dirt, really
In the cycles of what we do every day.
With every poop, every pee

and everything we eat.
How much more time we'd have
if we could just lay face down and eat dirt directly.

Chlorophyll really is the best trick ever.
All us Zoological Beings are still playing catch-up
to that incredible feat.
The only way we survive, really,
is by capitalizing on their labor.
A bunch of Chlorophyll slaves
whose bodies I eat for dinner.

mmm.
Eat your Vegetables~!