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Clinton Crockett Peters

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Clinton Crockett Peters

  • Essays
  • Longform Journalism
  • Fiction
  • Pandora's Garden: Kudzu, Cockroaches, and Other Misfits of Ecology
  • Mountain Madness: Found and Lost in the Peaks of America and Japan
  • Author Interviews BY Me
  • Book Reviews BY Me
  • Author Interviews and Reviews OF me
  • Contact
  • About

The Wealth of Water Waste, Fjords, July 20, 2017

http://www.fjordsreview.com/monthly-flash/prose-the-wealth-of-water-waste.html

"Twelve of us canoe on the Green River in Utah, whose color, a buttery turtle shell, almost earns its name. Along with the six barrels of food choices, jerky and Nova bars, two toilets, seven tents, and sunscreen, we barge sixty gallons of H2O. The old manure, piss, and, especially, the uranium, of the Green renders the water unfit for quenching our sunbaked thirsts.

Gliding downstream, the canyon funneling the cool morning air, the escapism of canoe-ing puts me in mind of possibilities. I imagine the uranium sitting on the river bank, collecting sun. It would be ready for a barge to ship to a railroad and then, perhaps, power a municipality. I picture that collected dynamite of a thousand, effervescent suns helping to render a climate changeless earth.

I suppose my relaxed utopian fixing, repurposes my inner accountant. Diggers and weavers of the internet can provide answers to the impact of waste were it collected and marketed and not left to foul a potable thoroughfare. This is how to make Capitalism work, maybe, a monstrosity tamed by imagination."

The Wealth of Water Waste, Fjords, July 20, 2017

http://www.fjordsreview.com/monthly-flash/prose-the-wealth-of-water-waste.html

"Twelve of us canoe on the Green River in Utah, whose color, a buttery turtle shell, almost earns its name. Along with the six barrels of food choices, jerky and Nova bars, two toilets, seven tents, and sunscreen, we barge sixty gallons of H2O. The old manure, piss, and, especially, the uranium, of the Green renders the water unfit for quenching our sunbaked thirsts.

Gliding downstream, the canyon funneling the cool morning air, the escapism of canoe-ing puts me in mind of possibilities. I imagine the uranium sitting on the river bank, collecting sun. It would be ready for a barge to ship to a railroad and then, perhaps, power a municipality. I picture that collected dynamite of a thousand, effervescent suns helping to render a climate changeless earth.

I suppose my relaxed utopian fixing, repurposes my inner accountant. Diggers and weavers of the internet can provide answers to the impact of waste were it collected and marketed and not left to foul a potable thoroughfare. This is how to make Capitalism work, maybe, a monstrosity tamed by imagination."

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