By Teresa Mei Chuc
I close my eyes so that I can see it.
What we so freely eliminate. Who is
not guilty of it? We reek of paper.
Everywhere we go is paper. Our
hands are stained with paper.
Walls. What echoes from our walls.
The sweet whisper of rainforest—
even the name makes the sound of
rushing water or perhaps it’s a ghost
that haunts us. They say the dead
that did not die a peaceful death are
doomed forever to wander the earth.
But perhaps this earth is for them
already a cemetery—stacks and
stacks of flesh on a desk. Which
one belongs to which tree?
Already, we’ve traded oxygen for
Sorry, late from trying to get a decent photo of the Strawberry Moon (looked amazing but none of my photos were sharp). I had a pretty quiet Thursday; the weather was gorgeous, it was a windows-open kind of a day and a long-walk-in-the-afternoon kind of a day. We had lots of chipmunks, squirrels, woodpeckers, doves, cardinals, and many little birds visiting on the deck so the cats had a lot of entertainment.
My Thursday night chat was canceled because so many people couldn't come, so apaulled and I caught up on The Flash, which was okay mostly because The Flash was barely in the episode and it was all about women working together, plus Kung Fu, which to some extent had the same. Here are some photos from the rainforest at Bridle Trails State Park near Redmond from our trip a few weeks ago: