My wife rolls her eyes
When I point out another wind turbine
“Bird Shredders”
“Pork Barrel for guilty Liberals”
“Don’t they disrupt wind patterns?”
But
When I look up at a stately giant
Broadcasting infrasound across the plains
I remember my nose pressed against the window
Of a 1957 Pontiac
In Wisconsin
Yelling
“Windmill”
As we passed every farm
As my parents rolled their eyes.

I love to photograph
the wild things in the land
If it weren't for the finned and clawed creatures
We wouldn't understand the
technology in our hands

Sonar is what we use to get a glimpse of pre-born babies
We have sonar from dolphins and bats
and yet we scream, "Rabies!"

We wouldn't understand infrasound if it weren't for
the elephants
But we only see their ivory, not their intelligence

Tigers and leopards are born to be trained assassins with
their patterned camouflaged coats
But we make them our trophies because humans need to gloat

We owe omega three's to the schools of fish who gave us healthy brains and hearts
But instead we fill their bellies with plastic and tear their reefs apart

Savannas and forests are turning into deserts because of climate change
But we insist it's just a theory
Who cares about polar bears anyway?

Yes, I love to photograph the wild beasts with
fins, claws, and tails
Because I'm afraid that someday
future generations will ask,
"What was once a whale?"

the awful fatigue of leashed wrath--

the devourment of all other emotion.

one of the most frustrating & loneliest

primacies.

a lion's infrasound shaking the housemates

of organs & bones.

a reiterating plain, onward straight to onward--

a massive drain at its center.

stymied blood let out, down it--a red waterfall

transfusing the earth's gut.