80 Percent
The human body is 80 percent freshwater,
and 80 percent of freshwater is suspended in glaciated forms at the southern pole,
where it’s rapidly melting.
80 percent of laborers in the United States of America
live paycheck to paycheck,
and 80 percent of college students engage in drunkorexia—
that’s starving oneself to increase the effects of intoxication
(for those who don’t know). 80 percent of women don’t orgasm
from penetrative sex, and 80 percent of animal species are as of yet undiscovered.
Sadly, that doesn’t make them much safer than the rest.
80 percent of earth’s forest has been destroyed,
and 80 percent of American kids have an online presence
by the age of two. 80 percent of the world population lives under skyglow
and 80 percent of Americans believe in the existence of angels.
80 percent of America’s food went uninspected in the shutdown of 2019,
and 80 percent of Central American women and girls are raped
on their way up to the US border. If they make it, and most don’t
they will meet thirty-three million registered Republicans,
80 percent of which trust Trump more than the media.
80 percent of forest fires are started by human action or negligence,
and 80 percent of smartphone users check their phones
before brushing their teeth in the morning.
Humans have killed over 80 percent of all wild mammals on earth,
and 80 percent of Americans aren’t content
with the brightness of their smile.
Drone Love
you take me whether or not
I am willing or able
you find me in the grey streets and persimmon groves
and flatten me with your persuasion
I know you watch me
with my shy child in the rusted park
and I know you will follow me
to the very ends of the earth
your commitment is unwavering
your determination bone cold
with steely hands
you pluck me from the wedding party
and the funeral procession like a dandelion
my roots limp and in utter disarray
your silence is uncanny
and your thoughts a coded mystery
nonetheless you persist and remain always devoted, always faithful
you, after all, have haunted my dreams
since I first saw your fiery passion
touch upon the ground in the lost courtyard
of my childhood
now I wonder, as you rive the unshorn sky
your eyeless head bulging where a mind ought to be
have you already decided that I’m the one
or are you just searching
for love at first sight?
I am an almost-PhD in philosophy turned organic farmer; writer of fiction, poetry, and children’s literature; and very proud father of two enchanted and half-wild children. I live with my family amidst the musical forests of the Saint Lawrence River Valley, just north of the Adirondack Range. My writing has appeared or is forthcoming in EVENT, Zone 3, Vassar Review, Blue River, Writers Resist, and Poets Reading the News. I am currently at work on a novel about an unlikely garden, a short story about life beneath ground, and a collection of my recent poetry. Visit my website at thewildernessofwords.com.
Photo by roya ann miller on Unsplash.
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