THE GREY ZONE

Human and Ecological Triage

As we find ourselves immersed in climate change effects, we will need to make increasingly difficult decisions— How do we define who the victims really are? How do we decide who lives and who dies? These decisions, the aftermath of environmental degradation, and the paralysis caused by our own grief, force us into a moving triage of privilege, inequitable consequences, and the deconstruction of human and environmental rights — The Grey Zone.

To Chiang Mai
Wen Pu Wong

"When Tiratep rowed past the line of whitestone cairns that marked the water boundary to the ancient capital, he rowed into the heart of an inky night. His frail candle, muted by its shade of thin rice paper, was the only weak light on the black river. "

Learning
Cory Brown

"take the dead/ and missing from the/ earthquake in nepal how we/ tracked the numbers to/ distract us from what/ it was like for them to be/ buried by snow "

Anonymous for the Voiceless
Miranda Perrone

"In a town like Freiburg, liberal, green, surrounded by the German Black Forest, you can stand on a slate-skied Saturday, shoulder to shoulder, anonymous behind a mask, holding a screen where cyclical slaughter loops, clockwork knives and of course fluffy male chicklets."

iii. Hurricane hits home (just a little bit)
Gerard Sarnat

"Due to the damages received from Harvey . . ."

Leaving the Party
John Linstrom

"you might remember/ the silence of taillights,/ lovely crawl of bodies,/ intoxicating hum now stilled and hung/ to collect the morning frost."

A Tornado in the North
Sydney O’Shaugnessy

"Wood paneling scrapes down the walls and crashes to the ground. He can’t hear anything over the sounds of ripping metal, crashing walls, and the screams of his livestock. He shuts his eyes."

Herring Gull/High Grasses
Robert Farrell

"In the leaves among the bushes/ The bees are still at it/ Despite the hour and through the darkness/ I try to count clothespins on the line."

Tractor for Philip Levine
Frank Graham

"whether/ with plow or brush hog, the mass/ of the plodding instrument, clawing/ over the earth, the skin of terrain pulled/ back by the aching machine."

The Wild Horses on Cumberland Island
Elizabeth Levinson

"They were not the pasture-fed/ thoroughbreds of the Midwest,/ their hides were pocked with scars/ whorls of hair around sores or ticks,"

Lunch in the Park
Rob Renaud

"The smell of cellophane/ still brings on hunger pangs/ memories of cardboard rectangles/ icy shards of orange-pineapple juice/ making my throat raw."

A Monologue for the House We Never Built
Darryll Williams

"our remains will be transposed/ into a dying leaf,/
that reeks of earth after rain."

Between the Storms
Hannah Thomas

"The swoop of the birds/ Five or six, in unison, toward the distant pines/ There is no wildness here/ Only raw new growth"

Meditation on Two Old Growth Stumps in Robert’s Preserve, Norway, Maine
Dennis Camire

"Now, hiking, I pause to salute the purple hearts of scarred bark/ Modestly covered with sweaters of moss; later, the perched bald eagle becomes/ That Silver Star for working so hard"

Room to Breathe
Edie McRoberts

“Farther, there is a fence. Barbed-wire and gnarled wooden posts, made from driftwood found in the creek beds. It is blackened by time and rough to the touch, hammered in by ranchers who came here with nothing.”

Featured Visual Artists:

Donna Bassin
Kourtnie McKenzie
John McNally
Xanthe Y.Z. Miller
Martha Nance
Joshua Peters
Fabrice B. Poussin

Alluvian

The Alluvian is an online journal integrating science, nonfiction narratives, and creative responses to environmental change. We promote sustainable engagement with nature through critical analysis, collaborative discussion, and systems thinking.