Hi there.
I’m a little late posting this week’s poem, as I’ve been busy completing a creative nonfiction course, preparing for my first overnight trip away since my daughter’s birth, and the general day-to-day of fathering and teaching. With so much going on, I have to remember to give myself grace, despite the delays.
The reason I’m going out of town is for my first foraging workshop of the season, at the Eugene Public Library from 2 - 3:30 p.m. this Sunday, April 19.
Here’s the event description from the library website:
Join expert and author Jeffree Morel for an illustrated introduction to early spring edibles you can responsibly forage here in Eugene.
Morel is a nature guide and founder of Foraging for More “edible forest adventures,” as well as a creative writer. He is “devoted to reconnecting humanity with nature and seeding a more regenerative future.”
Foraging is the timeless practice of searching for and gathering parts of wild plants to use for food, medicine, art and more. Across three seasons this year, Eugene Public Library will host “You Can Forage That” events highlighting the indigenous importance of plants and fungi, identifying edible nonnative weeds, and hosting a “show and tell” of species you can find in the woods, at the coast or in your backyard.
To all my Eugene followers, I sincerely hope to see you there! If you know anyone else who might benefit, please share this post. It’s free!
Now, onto my poem of the week. This is a cathartic little ditty inspired by probably the most toxic relationship I still maintain — to Facebook and Instagram.
Although they have their uses, it’s cliche by now to point out how manipulative and harmful the algorithms behind these social media platforms can be. It’s why I’m perpetually at odds with being on them at all, let alone trying to game the systems for promotion of my foraging tours and writing, and why Substack is much easier for me to maintain a consistent presence on. It doesn’t feel so… icky.
This poem focuses on but one icky facet of social media among the many — the algorithm’s propensity for spotlighting exhibition of one’s body for clicks and reactions. But that’s the fancy way to say it. Here’s the more direct.
Enjoy.
Dear Social Media
Dear social media, Let's be real. You don't like me and I don't like you. So how can I get you to stop showing me everytime a woman bares her skin or shakes her ass for the camera? If I want porn, I'll search for porn. Otherwise, please rebrand as Assbook. Sincerely, Your Product.
Funny poem! I love your twisting of thoughts <3