Source: Caitlin Johnstone, Rogue Journalist
by Caitlin Johnstone
“If you can hear the whales / through your glowing foot roots, / then stand up. / Open your mouth. / Let their aria rip through you. / Let it pound up and out / so the others can find you. / Burrrp! / Now’s not the time for politeness, my love. / We’re staring down mass extinction. / We don’t have time to be cool. / Care! It’s fine! / There’s a rumbling in your belly. / Can you feel it? / An inner ocean, / still teeming with luminescent jellyfish, / dulled by a thin coat of plastic, / immortal but dying anyway. / For so many / their foot roots / have withered away
somewhere in between an Uber shift / and a Door Dash, / and besides, / their heart, / rick-roll racketed by rent scam subscriptions, / beats too loud and fast / to hear any stupid whales….” (06/21/26)