this land is our land this land our slaughterland
tallgrass casualty of sprawl & might
dust along the scattered bison we claim
the treaties we make (intend to shred)
we burn the land to the ground just to make it
disappear we name
the land plant civilization
mine for stone then steel smokestacks
the same smokestacks that smear the sky
their wicked plumes take no prisoners human water
land air beg for relief parcel off and profit
we fear nothing not with guns
and God before us the white hot sun that keeps rising
“THERE’S NO THROUGH TRAIL” —HAN-SHAN, TRANSLATED BY GARY SNYDER
Frontier
by Elizabeth Spesia
Issue: Spring/Summer 2020
About Elizabeth Spesia
Elizabeth Spesia is a Fulbright English teacher in Puebla, Mexico. She is a graduate of the MFA program at Mount Saint Mary’s University in Los Angeles, and her poems have appeared in Copper Nickel, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, and Crab Creek Review.
Cold Mountain Review is published once a year in the Department of English at Appalachian State University. Support from Appalachian’s Office of Academic Affairs and College of Arts and Sciences enables CMR’s learning and publications program. The views and opinions expressed in CMR do not necessarily reflect those of university trustees, administration, faculty, students, or staff.