Ten Count

Don't get me wrong -
I'm not a nature-lover,
Tree-hugger, green thumb
Or preservationist
(One foot in the all-American
Ever-coursing river,
The other looming
Over a wildlife preserve
Or Indian camp)
But I saw, twice
In one day (twice!),
Trees being lumbered
To make space
For man's incessant
Technology, and I thought
What happens
When there's nothing to chop
Down but ourselves?

Somewhere, beneath
the plasteel, bandwidth,
Copperwire, cornerstones,
And all the "man" we find
Necessary, is a nature
Bleeding from the mouth,
Eyes swollen shut
In painful black and blue,
With lumps and scars,
In a state of semi-consciousness,
A drunk man sprawled
In a doorway in the late evening,
Slowly disproving Darwin
And going the way of all things.

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