To be clear, nature is everything not human,
Or whatever about humans is unconscious, non-artificial,
The organic, so to speak,
The way we are
Definite article: the person in the trees would be
As this dude in a city
Of course,
That way,
The ideal vision
The back and forth
Can be illuminated
By what must be
For civilization can be no other way
Than what mother-father-universe-god-thing
Designed;
In other words, genes and all-but-nurture,
Made to see in a certain light,
Blind to the ultra- and under-violets
It just is that way,
Even as it overuses itself,
The courseway is the river of life
And the ocean is death
According to all science and history
No need to think about it
Unless you've hit your toe on a rock
And while the broken pinky heals
You sit and see the stars and the ants
And reconsider both your confidence
And your trust in the natural whatever
Basting in a world that can't cook
Feasting senses that no one made
Roman Ryan 