Browsing: Eco-poetry

Eco-poetry
Poetry – Hannah Baker Saltmarsh

Hannah Baker Saltmarsh Love, Earth Mother Do you know how many times I’ve started over, without you, on my own? Once, in a beetle’s floral gown, I scraped together a semblance of a planet. I breathe so quietly…

Eco-poetry
Poetry – Catherine Esposito Prescott

Catherine Esposito Prescott Black Creek Trail or Annual Bike Ride During the Pandemic When Our Usual Route Is Closed New Year’s Day, 2021 Every vulture in Miami congregates on the outskirts of this landfill, and we ride past their…

Eco-poetry
Poetry – Maria S. Picone

Maria S. Picone The world is my mother’s gift always from her hands to mine soil pouring through fingers blood letting self run from her hands to mine insect buzz incandescing from her hands to mine amethysts winking starlit…

Eco-poetry
Poetry – Koss

Koss Untitled (Earth) mother earth, in her shifting plates and spinning transits her own aloof epic the slow weep of canyons’ wounds magnetic axis drawing in quiet defiance and divorces of continents and their denizens oh to be…

Eco-poetry
Poetry – Jules Jacob

Jules Jacob Land of Collective Misunderstandings I wheel soil from a stranger’s yard. Steal clover to lure bees. Search online for mason jars and an apiarist willing to travel more than fifty miles away. I want chemical-free land but…

Eco-poetry
Poetry – Lorraine Currelley

Lorraine Currelley Domestics (For: Domestics, Our Unsung Heroines) gentrification invades our eyes with its growing visual stench. our love putting food on our tables, cleaning invader’s homes. it is our need we hear, when their children call us by our…

Eco-poetry
Poetry – Sandra Crouch

Sandra Crouch The Miracle The way the bush beans begin with curls and winding our story grown from seed not with the motion of bodies meeting and meeting again but inside the thick yellowing leaves of the soon-potatoes, the…

Eco-poetry
Poetry – Jodi Boulton

Jodi Boulton The Badlands They say they’re the result of two geological processes, deposition and erosion. What I know is this: The earth there rubs like dry, gritty clay and is the color of putty against my palms. Alligator…