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it looks like driftwood but, really, it’s an apocalypse

A single grain a second. This ice cream kind of night, the horizon the softest flavor I can imagine and explaining to Dylan that beach glass actually isn’t sharp, it’s actually incredibly smooth because this whole place is actually sandpaper without the paper.

The beach glass a jellyfish fragmented, or a cut-away lamp abandoned on the shore, or maybe given to the drowned to hang around and listen. Bird track trails for hours, we were following them and I was looking for a piece of beach glass to show Dylan,

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Find the complete article and many more in this issue of Boston Review - What Nature (Spring 2018)
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About Boston Review

The poems in What Nature were not written on Walden Pond. They were not written because poetry can save the Earth. If they are a far cry from last century's nature poetry, it is because "nature" today is a far cry from sanctuary or retreat. These poems are not at ease and there is no place left to retreat. They are themselves far cries: urgent calls for rethinking our place on an imperiled planet.