My spirit-mate Deena and I trekked to a nearby university on a blistery night a couple years ago to hear Tony Hoagland, one of our favorite poets. He took us out of ourselves; we transcended our dreary workaday exhaustion and felt light.
He has found us again.
And perhaps I’ve found something, in the messy boundaries of my new plastic-free life, that bleeds onto those near and dear. When a colleague or acquaintance stops to ask me how the challenge is going, I feel that old spirit rising up again. And as exciting as that is, it means even more when those closest to me get a hit of the stuff I’m selling.
So all felt right with the universe when Deena brought this poem to my attention. It’s Tony Hoagland’s “Plastic,” from Unincorporated Persons in the Late Honda Dynasty. The whole collection, she says, really resonates with where I am right now in my environmental consciousness, and I can certainly say that this particular poem speaks, in some small way, for me.
So if you have the chance to give a gift, please