The passage of the Inflation Reduction Act created unprecedented opportunities to reduce energy bills, improve air quality, and create good-paying jobs.
I remember coffee-flavored ice cream at the Royal Scoop,
how it made me long to be old enough to drink espresso
like Dad. I remember stepping off the plane into the sweet
humid air, the tissue-paper feel of the Lei around my neck,
Falling in love is like swallowing grains of sand
to recover the pebble you skipped across the pond
by your childhood home, the ripples setting in
motion every marvel, every horror of your life;
Last night I dreamt of the perfect opening line
to a poem that would, I had no doubt, piece
back together the crumbling world. It was a line
that drew you in, breathless, that made you drop
everything—coffee, that online shopping cart
one click from arriving at your door—and pay…
I have put pen to much that I ought not have
written, including, perhaps, these very words.
I have mistaken Ragweed for Goldenrod,
alleyways for gardens, watched them torn out,
We are all mourners now, our clothes
funeral shrouds we tear off our backs
when the time comes (and it will come);
in one pocket we carry brushes for tidying
the graves we stumble on in schools, churches,
nightclubs, concerts, grocery stores, streetcorners…
long before the stamps commemorating peace,
before factories resumed churning out grenades,
some made off with blueprints for conquest,
taped them to the walls of their dreams
If you’re looking for glamor, doing the most good for people and the planet may not be the place to find it.
Tonight I’ll dream that a colony of ants has dragged
me out to sea, where I discover my belongings and I
have become so much flotsam and jetsam.
Changing the language we use when speaking about injustice does not, in and of itself, overturn the injustice.