Natural Drunkard

This constant search and agreement that the road carries on.

This bond with nature is bittersweet.

A constant gnawing.

A scratching at an evergreen door.

And, the earth fine as elderberry wine.

Another indulgence that never quite wets…my lips.

Such a drunkard am I!

I drink in the rainbow of flavors with a guzzle…not a sip.

An inebriated understanding…I am so small.

Mother Nature, the only beverage I drink in.

A seduction to which it is certain…I will fall.

Plastic Nation

On the turf, a coconut Slush puppy.

Receding from any new insults.

Melting with no specific rhythm…no sound.

Leaving in its aftermath…

100_1470summer’s last attempt of spreading debris at the base of a hump back tree.

Plastic Nation…this is it.

This is what we die for.

More, more, more.

 

Where Will Your Plastic Trash Go Now That China Doesn’t Want It?

 

 

the Government…Not at Work

So, for the new year.  As some warm weather has discarded newly fallen snow…’our trashy-ness…is revealed.

We belong to the earth (so quaint.)  The earth does not belong to us…(truth.)

Garbage, feces, other bad behavior take toll on national parks during shutdown

http://www.usatoday.com/staff/10047164/calley-cederlof/

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Human feces, overflowing garbage, illegal off-roading and other damaging behavior in fragile areas were beginning to overwhelm some of the West’s iconic national parks.
“It’s a free-for-all,” Dakota Snider, 24, who lives and works in Yosemite Valley, said by telephone Monday, as Yosemite National Park officials announced closings of some minimally supervised campgrounds and public areas within the park that are overwhelmed.
“It’s so heartbreaking. There is more trash and human waste and disregard for the rules than I’ve seen in my four years living here,” Snider said.

the Last Resort

‘Cause there is no new frontier…

We have got to make it here!

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You call some place paradise…

kiss it goodbye.’

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broken bits of a song…

every time I’ve heard it sung…

there is no admittance for my wrongs.

even in the midst of a rural confession

good time notions are interrupted by the footprints I have left on the ground

I am ignorant in the dirt… of any lesson