alice
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alemieux.bsky.social
alice
@alemieux.bsky.social
12 followers 21 following 17 posts
poet, biologist, ecologist, maker, GS leader, OWL facilitator, mother, and partner
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alemieux.bsky.social
Müllspuren= newly coined term, refers to traces left by trash on the sea floor, inspired by the more commonly used term lebenspuren=“life traces” and refering to signs of life left behind by organisms on the sea floor. ui.adsabs.harvard.edu/abs/2022CSR.... #poetry #deepsea #environmentalism
Poem and image of a plastic trash bag crating parallel tracks in the sand. Poem reads: Müllspuren An opaque gaping maw with edges Eroding perfectly parallel cliffs and ledges Smoothing the connecting plain between Bulldozing ‘cross the Philippines Ironically, “ecofriendly” says its text Its “life” cycle visible at all depths Hovering in the water column Or almost fully buried at the bottom Alas no life in this sea bed Plastic bags have drifted in their stead Making tracks of trash where life had creeped New permanent additions to the deep
November 10, 2025 at 4:27 PM
alemieux.bsky.social
This past Saturday was Dad's birthday. He would have been 77. #poetry #ancestors
Poem and Image of me, a middle-aged white woman sticking her tongue out wearing the blue and gold plaid shirt from my father. Poem reads: Moral Fiber Hand-me-down I can’t remember that blue and gold plaid shirt on you, Dad. I wear it now and, impossibly, it fits my tiny body; the sleeves might, in fact, be a bit short. You were always so much larger than I – both in stature and reputation. Truth be told, I often wanted to borrow both your clothes and your reputation; hoping a little would rub off. Now that you’re dead, I’ve claimed your plaid shirts; can’t even pretend it’s borrowing anymore. I put them on and inhale the smell of you that will soon be gone, washed out. I imagine your hug, those Malcolm described as “the best hugs” These shirts a poor approximation I’ll never fit your mold, Dad But thanks for the shirts and the model; it’s nice to feel wrapped in you for a bit more.
November 3, 2025 at 4:10 PM
alemieux.bsky.social
#poetry #garden
Image of poem and a trio of red cap mushrooms. Poem reads: Grandma’s Please Stay on my defined paths The compost is newly laid The seeds carefully spaced It would only be folly to wander now
October 27, 2025 at 6:19 PM
alemieux.bsky.social
#poetry #marinebiology #ecology
picture of a poem and illustration of a purple urchin test. The poem reads: Test Testing, testing This is only a test of strength, left on the rocky shore only the remnants of Strongylocentrotus purpuratus Even the purple urchin’s name suggests its herculean might – with just five teeth it carves out ping-pong-ball perfect holes in the rock-hard setting And uses its tiny body covered all round in rows of spikes, tube feet, and pincers to nest itself in its stronghold – creating a piecemeal wall of old shells, rock and seaweed over its corps. It occasionally forays out to kelp forests for a repast of epic proportions - acting as an analysis of health for the strength of the entire ecosystem; only diversity can stop this menacing blight. The urchins’ strong hunger kept in check by sunflower sea stars’ and sleek sea otters’ feasting. The robustness of the whole dependent on keeping the strength of a piece at rest. The story of our kelp forests played out in the fragile remaining core, or test, of a purple sea urchin guts The test a testament to life.
October 20, 2025 at 4:30 PM
alemieux.bsky.social
On Indigenous Day, I think of the people who have lived and still live everywhere I've had the honor of also living. Consider paying something like shuumi to your local tribe (sogoreate-landtrust.org/shuumi-land-...) #poetry #indigenous
Picture of Poem and Illustration of child shining a flashlight down to a beach full of long thin fish. The poem reads: The Grunion Run On A dark, slippery, sandy disarray of endless sinuous, silver fish squirming, inseminating, depositing, concealing, shore glistening beneath crashing surf, spirit sparking boundlessly – wave to beach, sperm to ovule. A multinational association of people merge: taking, crowding, calling, rallying, looking to reap profits, pant legs rolled, buckets in hand, hoarding the tumbling, entangling. An undersized six year old is easily squeezed out. Surrounded by chaos, the small dreamer quietly acts. Reverently scooping each fleshy jewel, she skips to the wet, black edge and releases them back, one by one, like wishes. The fish beach to mate and lay eggs. The grown-ups amass to gather fish. The naïve envision nothing injured. In the velvet night, the eternal, placid, California moon illuminates a memory held and relived by sand and wave echoing what Tongva Peoples have done for eons.
October 13, 2025 at 4:08 PM
alemieux.bsky.social
With the first day of Sukkot tomorrow, thoughts may stray to how we build shelters and why. May your shelter support "the soft animal of your body [to] love what it loves." (Mary Oliver, "Wild Geese") #poetry #anemone
Image of poem and illustration of a closed anemone. The Poem reads: Anemone Have you ever touched an anemone? It’s soft squishy sticking to your fingers? Such a vulnerable creature, Sitting in the rocky between of ocean/land Open to every whim of sea and sky – A cold, crashing wave, A sharp, scorching sunbeam. And yet, it uses clinging and cushion, To hold shells, seaweed, small rocks As shields for the crash And parasols for the scorch. Its bottom firmly adhered to the ground, “Thou shalt not move me,” Says the fragile pillow of animal. And it is so.
October 6, 2025 at 3:45 PM
alemieux.bsky.social
sometimes, you just have to have a little faith. #poetry #abecedarian
picture of poem and illustration of a veliger larvae. Poem reads: A Great Pacific Patch of Wishes Across the ocean, spread by evolution’s hope, Billions of planktonic larvae and grown life forms Carry the prayers of the world in their being. Diatoms and rotifers have only Earth’s everlasting Faith that somehow they will find another to swap Genes with. Somehow the current will Heave them together with one of their own. Ignoring the vast expanse of nothingness, Jellyfish will give themselves up to the waves Knowing their young will eventually find Lodging to build, bud, and re-launch from again. Mussel larvae might float with their angelic wings Nearly forever until they find something On which to land. Their entire existence is buoyed Prayer that they will find purchase, never mind Quick predators scouting the ocean always Ravenous for anything they can inhale. Somewhere to live and That special someone is, Ultimately and, Vitally, evidence of the faith our World has in itself. So why not You? Have faith. Send out a prayer on a blue Zephyr.
September 29, 2025 at 2:49 PM
alemieux.bsky.social
Today marks the beginning of more dark than light. #poetry #fallequinox
Image of Poem Surrounded by Fall Leaves. Poem reads: Fall Birch yellow and oak orange fade as maple red plunges into focus. Each round or jagged shape defines desire, drifts, floats, flirts. The damp musk of age and rot demands attention. Swishing and crunching bely breath as it all tumbles and falls in to the gutter.
September 22, 2025 at 3:08 PM
alemieux.bsky.social
Poem with illustration of a straw and a salt shaker, Poem reads: An Ode to the Plastic Straw Oh I loved you when I was a kid. Shot your paper cover at my brother Or scrunched it up and droppered it; Watched it move and grow like a strange worm. Or creased and folded the paper An origami accordion. According to some, we use over 500 million of you A day And not properly thrown away you find your way into a turtle’s nose. That’s some disgusting shit! A straw stuck up a turtle’s nose? Your long tube can reach so far up the rescuers that pull you out get gobs of mocos on their hands – they could be Slimer from Ghostbusters. You slim plastic mother fucker. Sliding off people’s radar, slipping into sewer tunnels, sloughing off to sea. I loved the way I could chew on you. I didn’t have to just drink, I could take my time and chew and think. But then you brittle bugger would break into a hundred threads of sharp bristles each poking a different bit of my lip and that was the end of that one of you. That’s how easily each of you broke down Into Little Tiny Bits The same happens in the ocean. Little bits floating around, being eaten with the little algae. Soon there’s fish with little bits of straw in their stomachs. That’s the fish people eat. Does anyone wanna eat straws? Fucking plastic straws. And salt! Imagine the straws and other plastic like it breaking down in the ocean, getting really small, like a grain of salt. Now when we harvest sea salt, we harvest plastic too. I could offer, “Shake a little extra straw on your eggs?” It’s a damn shame, fucking “ode to straws”.
September 15, 2025 at 2:36 PM
alemieux.bsky.social
9/11 has, apparently, been decreed "Patriot Day". Please remember that true patriotism is not blind fanaticism but rather actively supporting the nation you love to become its best self. #poetry #patriotday #patriot #justice
Photo of poem and illustration of broken handcuffs on a shoreline. Poem reads: Against Surging Systemic Supremacy We wade into the frothing waves, Amid the swirling tide of white Ever hoping we can change their ways. The sand shifts and caves Unable to bear the rage of our might, As we wade into the frothing waves. It's not just we who rants and raves, Those who scrape a living here also hold on tight, Ever hoping we can change their ways. We know the system ever craves The shore it wears away each night And so we wade into the frothing waves. The crashing white forever chafes But inch by inch we set our sight, Ever hoping we can change their ways. This ocean carries memories of slaves And we know this is an ancient fight. We will always wade into the frothing waves, Ever hoping we can change their ways.
September 8, 2025 at 3:32 PM
alemieux.bsky.social
Happy Labor Day - Support, Join, or start a union! #laborday #unions #poetry
Photo of Poem and Illustration of underwater life around a small island. Poem reads: Just a Tiny Rock I’m a tiny rock in the middle of the immense ocean battered by colossal waves making me smaller. All I can do is yell, “I matter!” I forget the reason I stand above the waves at all is that I’m the tip of a mountain connected to the Earth at its very crust through its deep core As I feel its heat warming my roots, my sediments shift, meld, hone to onyx, darkness reflects and shines. I am remembered to myself – and, though the waves crash, they are just the surface of a sea of life that rallies around me, collecting in my crevices, filling me with a vibrancy and vitality that gives me purpose and reason. I may be a small rock yelling against the mighty tide, but I am connected to something much larger and I am home to a small universe of wonder.
September 1, 2025 at 3:19 PM
alemieux.bsky.social
Happy Birthday to a woman who has spent her life breaking glass ceilings and helping others to as well - My mother turns 77 tomorrow.
Photo of poem with image of dragonfly emerging from it's nymph form. Poem reads: "More Fire in this Dragonfly" Beautiful, you call me Wings of gossamer, jeweled and delicate Lithe, long vibrant body Barely tapping the water’s surface Balancing upon the blade of sedge I can take down a hummingbird If it’s not careful I start my life overlooked, dark but keen In the muck and stone of a river Crawl my way through molts That would leave others soft – Mere outfit changes for me. I snag and devour your snips and snails, Every beetle and salmon fry I can find I take life by my mandibles And when it’s time, I seize my chance and trade water for air Reach my head out of the glassy surface Clamber up the rocky edge And hang in the pre-dawn cold Cracking myself apart Because I know I am born to fly
August 25, 2025 at 4:26 PM
alemieux.bsky.social
August 24, 2025 at 3:57 PM