Poetry, Fiction, Essay, Art: Grown Out of Our Experience
All the Words for Blue
One astronaut returned
the moon and the unknown wanting
one small safe place in space
Earth perfect oceans
for human living
Earth will survive, the astronauts say.
to tell us
It’s us. We are
flimsy, fragile, perhaps too soon
gone every word
from this forbeauty
our only home.
all the words for blue.
Morning Moon by Rachel Ryan (fabric collage)
At the Tree Zoo, Mesachie Lake, British Columbia
Big numbers spray painted eye level blue
across their horned bark
all my weight slight close to earth
a vast living wall long drips fall slow
in my mouth open raised
green cloud of needle and branch
Grow feathers spread wings be eagle
see mountains snow in high reaches
these giant firs numbered
It is late, I am tired, the motel bed will do. Under car wheels,
the road whines slick, nearly frozen. The radio, CBC.
“Can you use different words?” asks the host. Snow slides in clots
down the windshield, car fan on defrost set high, wiper blades
can’t do enough.
The guest is a lawyer, a woman, Indigenous
even-voiced, firm, implacable
in my ears, in the storm, she repeats
Apocalypse Water Hypoxia Trees.