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The Last Endangered Species Glass

Three years ago two friends gave me
a set of six Endangered Species Glasses,
each glass etched with the picture and name
of one of the species near extinction.
The Oryx was the first to bite the dust—
a friend laughed so hard at something I said
it slipped full of wine from her fingers.
A few months later the Cheetah fleeted
faster than my reflex to catch it.
The Polar Bear was the loser
in a battle with an ice-cube tray.
The Whooping Crane flew out of my hand
as I wildly gestured a poem.
The Eagle was the last to go.
I broke it against the faucet
while doing the dishes.
Each time one of those glasses broke
I got a lesson in fragility,
a shattered metaphor for
what extinction means. Now
only the Tiger remains…
and it’s chipped.

-- Jeff Poniewaz (1975)

Low Life and Blood Relatives: An ode to slugs

Unseemly wet knob of flesh
child's snot ball
what part of Earth
what Mother
loves your facelessness?
Oozing where you sit or sleep
on seedlings, first buds
a vengeance of protoplasm
in my garden!

Mud-whale
small as fingernails,
slick mystery of scum
State your purpose.

We live together
but is respect due?
You, sleazy low-down acrobat
passionate to gum holes
in my delicate-veined
lettuce, crisp harmonious
halves of leaf,
unbroken peripheries
complete, perfect,
except for you!

One squish, one flick of my thumb,
you die.

My crude neighbor,
my low-life
third eye,

Earth's balance,
wholeness, too,
is grounded
in our strange
difference.

Remind me,
with your alien body
of startling goo:

We are mud relatives.
We're family,
me and you.

-- Louisa Loveridge Gallas

Welcome To My Dream

I dream I’m holding a large mirror,
so the whole world can see itself…
yes, everyone sees their reflection,
from elephants to sea-shells.

And when anyone gazes into the mirror,
they don’t just see themselves…
they see connections
with everyone else.

     Flowers see bees, sunshine, and rain,
     a squirrel sees the forest,
     a whale sees the immense ocean,
     and birds, the sky so vast.

Aaaah, my wondrous dream,
its mirror, pure magic…
when a gravestone looks into it,
a baby’s face smiles back:

     welcome to my dream…
     may it never end—
     may it never end—
     welcome to my dream

-- Harvey Taylor

Come join us to hear more on Friday, April 26th! $5 suggested donation to benefit the Urban Ecology Center and several other eco groups. Click here for more information about this unique event.