Note: Citizens of Earth, facing imminent oblivion, seek an alternate home. A scribe
​dreams of Upper Zygonia, an imaginary planet.
 
we observed from space
everywhere flooding
shoreline storms, chemical poisons
we were in a hurry
the earth was peeled and pitted
a pale pink crumpled up ball
 
we were fleeing pollutants
harmful materials
watched the gradual
change of the colour of the sky
its chalky unknown, our continent
odd and waxy
 
pollution was the introduction
warming, sea levels, the endless
purple-grey washing up,
a faded indigo
ocean creatures dying.
the beaches fibrous
centuries of
breaking down
 
our tears stained
the sidewalks when we
encountered the harmful environment
the destruction of centuries’ old roots
 ongoing ocean and atmospheric ruin
the birds transformed by bad air
water, and runoff produced by factories
pollutants that would damage
future trash turning into subdued ash
 
we wanted to save ourselves
burning coal, cars spewing
pollutants and homes generating
garbage and sewage
we saw fewer insects,
flowers and barks
the air thick as wool
sea levels rise causing erosion
we were fleeing from hazards
from nostalgic memories
and golden ideals
 
we were fleeing industrial
and wastewater effects
growth meant gases into the lake
spongy clouded depths once had years
one-celled microbes to blue large city
an aquifer over a sodden mud road
toxic clouds. whales dwindling
all living things. drought begets drought
so most of this water implanted
in the terrestrial air was water
plunk down a city
 
we were fleeing the soil infertile
for years. clouds of smog
collected into nearby valleys
as the residents of the towns
suffer deadly gases
 
we were fleeing heatwaves
killing hundreds. extreme heat
dries out the soil. thunderstorms
set fire to dry forests
we were choked, or asphyxiated,
by the atmosphere
as a result, not enough land remains.
there are landslides
 
we were fleeing a pressure cooker
dead birds and other organisms
in a hazardous climate
burnt out of their natural habitat
this air all bunched up with toxic
clouds devouring landscapes
we are fleeing years without rain.
a ludicrous place to work on the land
desert skies clear as petroleum jelly
tatty from lifetimes of abuse
 
we swallowed slimy euphemisms as if they were cream
letting reality slip into unimaginably soft platitudes
making metal bouquets out of fool’s gold
drinking dollar beers in frontier towns of yester year
 
the earth is simmering
choose yer tannins
sea level continues to rise
lakes one-eighth of an inch per
painful cuts in wells
“unused” grass is banned
yellow-orange sign of water restrictions
at a rate of about cabbage
megadroughts make wore with farmers
non-arable the once verdant is a
megalopolis form of black
boiled down as seen on the satellite image
pink from above
the reasons why this once
beautiful unsustainable
precious commodity
 
we are fleeing the black water
that was once coastal cities
the fires and drought emergencies
dry a crisis
the amazon, a now-pale
speck on a disappearing map
inside the crucible of lip service policies
decided by each municipality
billions of trees burnt out
ghosts in the ancient forests
helpless against environmental vandalism
 
we are running without predictable course of action
the ground on steroids.
the battle for water
deadly and destructive storm surges
empty maps. push farther inland
the wild lightfast end
 
we’re fleeing deadly floods
sheets of ice
flash floods
grieving 1 million species never to be
devastation and death
vanishing forests
deforestation
wildfires sweeping through towns,
fine powders of ash raining down
 
corrupted oceans
an alien place. the voice of earth
is trembling,
the ice melted long ago
sea level rise
thermal south
dust expansion caused by warming
emissions from human activity
increased atmospheric heat
 
we’ve thrown ink on the fire.
extreme rain terrifying
scenes of devastation and death
swelling streams
towns washed away
no shelter remains
despite the ample warnings
 
we wrote letters to the rain in pen or brush
this should not be happening
a burning future
fruitless markings by our desires--abandoning all
renouncers of climate change

The Before is a guided remix, which takes words and phrases from the following sources:
 
Pollution from the National Geographic Resource Library.
 
Cornwall, Warren, Europe’s deadly floods leave scientists stunned, Science Magazine, 7/20/21.
 
Keith, Arthur, 6 Of the Most Unsustainable Cities, Analyzed, Medium, 7/12/21.
 
Logan, Jason, The Colour: The Colour of Water, 7/20/21; The Unknown Continent 7/23/21; Handwriting 7/16/21; Berry Stains 7/2/21.
 
Luymes, Glenda, First look at Lytton reveals terrible extent of fire damage, Vancouver Sun, 7/9-12/21.
 
National Ocean Service, Is sea level rising?, O2/26/21.
 
National Ocean Service, What is glacial isostatic adjustment? 08/11/21.
 
Sandy, Matt The Amazon Rain Forest Is Nearly Gone, Time Magazine.
 
Sims, Amanda,  4 Steps to Naturally Dyeing Any Fabric Using Foods, Architectural Digest, 10/12/18.

Amanda Earl (she/her) is a pansexual, polyamorous feminist who writes, makes visual poetry, edits and publishes others and lives in Ottawa on unceded Algonquin Anishinabe territory. Earl is the author of Kiki (Chaudiere Books, 2014, now with Invisible Publishing). Her latest chapbook is The Before, an excerpt from Welcome to Upper Zygonia (above/ground press, 2022). She's the managing editor of Bywords.ca, the fallen angel of AngelHousePress, and the editor of Judith: Women Making Visual Poetry (Timglaset Editions, 2021). Welcome to Upper Zygonia has been awarded a City of Ottawa Creation and Production Fund for Established Writers Grant in 2021. Further info: https://linktr.ee/amandaearl

note: this video was made in may 2017 by 2017-emilie, four months before emilie got sick. 

video transcription: the video is in portrait mode. finger-dragged words read bottom-to-top in grey sand that gets darker/wetter to the right. they say: “TIME IS RUNNING SHORT WITH MOST THINGS I FEEL LIKE THE TIDE RISES TOO FAST.” after six seconds, a wave takes most of them. the words left: “SHORT THINGS FEEL LIKE THE FAST,” or, almost, “SHORT THINGS FEEL LIKE THE PAST.” 

em/ilie kneifel is a poet/critic, editor at The Puritan/Theta Wave, creator of CATCH/PLAYD8s, and also a list. find 'em at emiliekneifel.com, @emiliekneifel, and in Tiohtiá:ke, hopping and hoping.

TRANSLATIONS OF CORMORANTS

One of the delightful things about drawing is the looking – in drawing you give attention to details that are often otherwise missed – like the space around a bird. 

This video belongs to a poem I wrote for the sculptor and hunter Billy Gauthier who I listened to at a symposium in 2020 at Toronto’s Power Plant. He was one of the speakers in a group of Indigenous artists and scientists from the Arctic and Amazon, come together to talk about climate change. It was an incredible conversation to listen to. Billy, in particular, inspired me deeply. And continues to. Here is Billy.

Through this past spring and summer double-breasted cormorants have become my companions, especially those belonging to a colony on the Humber River near home. They glide above our kayaks in the early morning, skimming the surface of the Leading Sea (also known as Lake Ontario). We've marvelled at their nests, hooked beaks, bright green eyes. The adult bird is a deep grey and brown but the youngsters have downy white chests. They are called gaagaagiishib in Ojibwe and they've been here a long time. 

The cormorant is a conservation success story – their population was close to making the endangered list some time ago and now they are thriving. Unfortunately there is a lot of misinformation about them, mostly that they're a nuisance and a threat to fish. These are unfounded claims. Distressingly, their future is again in jeopardy. From Sept 15 - December 31st of 2020, the Ontario government has approved their long slaughter. People now have permission to kill up to 15 of these birds a day to "control" their numbers.

Toronto visual artist, conservationist and activist, Cole Swanson is currently hard at work to challenge this. You can read about his efforts (along with Gail Fraser, professor of environmental and urban change at York University) and the research behind his efforts here.

For those of you interested in the film-making process: My partner, Paul Esposti, photographed the cormorants in flight; I used Paul’s photos to draw stills with ink and pencil on vellum (about 90 drawings!). We then photographed each drawing, and Paul turned them into an animation, created the sound design and edited. This is our first attempt at animation, and we’re just getting started. Paul and I both feel like these birds are our neighbours and teachers. We made the film thinking about how much might be resolved in our world if we could learn to care for a cormorant, for the sky and space around a soaring bird.

Paul David Esposti is a photographer and videographer who does his best to listen to birds. One of the ways he listens is through looking closely. Paul's photographed birds from Costa Rica to the Salish Sea and he especially likes photographing them near his home in Etobicoke, Ontario. You can find out more about Paul and see his photographs at pauldavidesposti.com

Jessica Joy Hiemstra is a designer and visual artist who does her best to listen to birds. One of the ways she listens is through drawing. She's also written several books of award-winning poetry, most recently, The Holy Nothing (2016) with Pedlar Press. You can find out more about Jessica here: jessicahiemstra.ca.