Here's a line in the sand:
surf breaking there, here shifting strand.
Out there swells planetary ocean;
it rolls in with universal motion.
This continent begins here, between my toes
with little grains that stretch to grandiose shows:
mountains untamed beyond cultivated grass,
miniscule creatures in habitats vast.
Who formed this strand I think I know;
It wasn't Michelangelo. No,
it wasn't Newton or Sagan or Copernicus.
'Though they played their part to show us
the dynamics of this present shifting locus,
it's no result of human focus.
Nor do our carbon-laden spewings
amount to any significant doings.
Our refuse is but momentary trash
sliding up on shores of civilizations past;
it comes, it goes, but no one knows
what bosons do beneath atomic shows.
If we think it's in our power
to determine planet emissions of any given hour,
then I've got some beachfront land to sell you
in Arizona; here, let me tell you.
CR, with new novel, Smoke, soon
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