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Showing posts with label nature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nature. Show all posts

Friday, September 7, 2012

Fast Day 275 September 7 2012 {Labor Day 2012}



Labor Day  2012


The rain will descend,
then comes the drought;
we’ll take up our canoe and carry it
to the garage where it will winter,
but spring follows the snow
and we shall put it into the water again
so we may come and go by the river
and visit the islands,
and all the places
where the wild things are
awaiting us…

The sun bakes the ground,
then come the rain;
we’ll harrow and scythe the gardens again
and leave them to hibernate;
the hibiscus will bloom again
and the deer will eat the hasta down to stems;
we may not return to the river
this time… this future
the sun rising in new horizon,
and you and I have defeated
the alien gods…

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Fast Day 195 February 26 2011 {Viewing An Old Tree}

















Viewing an Old Tree

Upon a hill I saw a tree
with snow and green garbed perfectly;
perfect in its height and span,
hitherto unseen by man -
offended by no mortal blade,
from whose wood no lumber made -
a tree as from the older times
from gentler days and gentler climes,
when his tribe filled the surrounding
mountains with his kin abounding:
men worshipped at this woodland chapel
oak and laurel, birch and apple...
awestruck by this proliferation
dense forests strung across the nation;
but in an age when we kill all gods,
this tree, I wonder what the odds
that it will live on and evade
the holocaust and clear-cut blade?
And as we creep along the brink
of empty hearts... Nature extinct!

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Fast Day 191 January 29 2011 {Sweet Water}



Sweet Water
 
On Tassili rocks are petroglyphs
drawn by our ancient hands;
paint  a man at the end
of his vision quest here,
through old sahara’s palaeo-lakes:
his head exploding with
feathered sun and
wisdom’s kingly vipers!
Hey! Paint me here!
Show my wife, my clan!
Paint a halo round my head!
Hey! painter! Hey! friends!
I live forever
painted  in our
communal , polished
and granitic halls!

And when the weather began to change,
turn the lakes to sodden
sloughs, and thence to arid
wastes, then to vast empty
amphitheaters of tragedy,
penumbral seeking
populations in transit
from the fire genius:
Hey! Paint us here!
Show our clan’s procession!
Peaceable kingdom exodus.
Hey! Hand-blowers! Friends!
Visions and bison
our entourage
for new oases
we shall farm.

O, our lakes!
O, our lakes!
You are in our hearts!
Faithful water!
Ah, sweet water!



 ---------
notes
Tassili  = Tassili N’Ajjer mountains in southern Algeria

palaeo-lakes  =  “palaeo-“ from Greek meaning “old”; same as in “palaeology”.  The lakes of the Sahara region now gone.

polished…halls  =  an echo of the Odyssey, wherein Circe’s place has either “polished”, “painted”, or “sculpted”  halls…. ambiguity in the the Greek.

penumbral seeking  =  an exodus of the populace from the dry desert, seeking shade and water
peaceable kingdom exodus  =  humanity and animals escape the desert together under a truce of necessity

hand-blowers  = painters who blow pigmented powder around their hands which are pressing against a stone surface. When they remove their hands from the surface, there is a colored outline.

I have touched upon this theme many times recently. I think I see Climate as a vast spirit environment: the fire in which we burn.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Fast Day 177 October 21 2010 {Windy Days}



 Windy Days

A windy day is archaeology,
a day of vertebrae and fish...
lethal bones, thin and white;
hair combs from Persephone's
make-up bags that lie on tables
in the Women's Room of memory!

Fossil dinosaur fingers grasp the road
like broken twigs and scattered,
from a landscaper's dump-
truck that placed them here against the law;
where the small black birds reconcile
their grievances, and chase the hawk!

Tree branches lay enormous like femurs
of the quercal lizard race...
legs and arms of giants!
Dispossessed by war's alarm and tossed
in protesting disarray here:
our Cabinet of Steampunk Wonders!

Take three horns of the triceratops,
and oak leaves like dragons' teeth:
the flesh is gone from the bone,
blown about here and there by wand'ring death:
a pale groundskeeper who holds
the wailing leaf-blower of our tears.





----
notes

written when someone illegally dumped yard waste and fish bones in the turn-around at the end of my favorite cul-de-sac: first exploit the world, then trash it! seems to be an acceptable cycle of life around here, and the trash and pruned tree branches became a history.

Persephone -  wife of Hades, lord of the underworld

like broken twigs and scattered -  like scattered and broken twigs

quercal - pertaining to the oak tree; the oak branches look like dino femurs.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Fast Day 172 September 15 2010 {Autumn Leaves}

 Autumn Leaves

My love is like a tree, he said.
Ah, wrinkled bark, she said,
somnolent, morose,
dropping leaves...
unhappy parallel!

No, he said; like this tree here!
Many branches, pointing
to all the stars!

Deep roots, covering the meadows!
Bird-friend tree!
The migrating wing'd gossips
return like clouds
from southern climes!

Fallen leaf ? - a message sent
in the haze and smoke
of autumn:

When All Saints approaches,
scarlet, orange,
rust, pumpkins and Thanksgiving;
trees still stitch
heaven and earth together!


--
notes

early - I have no time next week. I wrote it for a birthday this week.
If I can get my other computers working, I shall have a picture.

Saturday, January 30, 2010

Fast Day 139 January 20 2010 {The Thief of Water}

Fezzan Oasis


She, not She

I smell a flower,
a mallow stem bleeding, perhaps,
then the queen's lace,
and finally lavander and rose,
and I step into Cairo's perfume shop
of eros and imagination
to think of her.

I see the geese,
a group of males in the wetlands,
then wonder where
the females spend intimacies,
so I go into the woods along
the river of woven reed baskets
and remember her.

I feel the virgin palm tree
bend beneath my over-eager grasp,
then wonder why
I am so angry, so perplexed...
so I go mad within the oasis
to drink naked from the spring
of her lips.

I see a mirage of flags
fly from imaginary forts within
the ancient lake:
suddenly my hair whips, running gazelle,
spit flying and panting mouth...
not pennants of war;
her wet dress...drying!

...I arrive at last,
out of breath and dirty as an eland -
where have you been?
she asks, eyeing my drooping fidelity;
Up and down, I gasp, up and down
Afric's paleo-lakes and streams!
they are no more!

she laughs -
like sparks from the Minotaur's flinty hooves -
takes me down a notch! -
phantom symposium of thirsty eyes!
How could the eternal lakes be gone?
And sacrament streams? Or extinct
my hart and hind?

naked gazelle -
go to the window, look about, and tell
me whatever you see!
Forgetting luxuriant nudity,
I strode - a dusty palm tree, a verdant
papyrus - I was numb catastrophe!
I saw the lakes... and then sat down, bare skin
on alabaster.

Her rain was love;
we replenished entire aquifers!
from my dust came clay
mixed with eros' several peculiar sweats;
Will one tumble th'Atlantean towers?
Or intercept and bind our Mother Nile?
No, she said.


------------------
notes:

Minotaur
the offspring of Minos' Queen Pasiphae and a Bull. Anyway...Minotaur is half human, half bull, lived in the Labyrinth, and Theseus killed him/it.
Daedalus designed the Labyrinth, if you're interested; his son Icarus was the first to die in a flying accident.

Afric's paleo-lakes...
anciently the Sahara was a verdant area, having dried up recently in geological time, destined to be green again in 15,000 years. "paleo" is a Greek prefix for "old".

phantom symposium
she says I have seen illusions, caused by thirst...phantom drinking parties ( in this case, drinking water) caused by thirsty eyes.

Some say that within the paleo-system of lakes and rivers, from the Chott el Jerid in Tunisia - in the North- down to the mega-lake of Chad...and even beyond, when the drainage of the Mighty Congo went eastwards, to the Rift Lakes of Victoria and Tanganyika...there was situated the city of Atlantis...and its destruction came with the Great Drying and plate tectonics within the Rift Valley.

The lady of this poem and I live in the magic time to come - or the time past, when the Sahara is green, and mankind is at peace. We interrelate with the present, and she cannot believe the drought that has overtaken her land in the past, which is our present.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Fast Day 124 October 17 2009 {Venus Rising in Aspen Grove}




Venus Rising in Aspen Grove


We took the road to Aspen Grove,
and turned off where the interstate ends:
where the funds ran out
or where the vision stopped
like the Cinema Palace when
the projectionist fell asleep.

The earth and sky come together
here, as close as spit -
and the misty net of moisture
cools the fevered lands
where sticks and kindling
once were houses.

Inside the brims of our white hats
we are circumpolar stars
in a time lapse photograph;
we cut through heaven
like quantum mandoline
picking a steel guitar.

Wild trail, ocean trail:
prison of the morning sun;
warden of the misty glen,
saving all time's elements together
for Venus to rise up again
before we Hummer home.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Fast Day 120 September 19 2009 {Ghazelles}


Ghazelles

O, delight of the eyes!
dancing in the court of the sun!
dancing to the lyre of enchantment!
my bewildered thought...
my plain and simple passion...
beating my heart like a dhow upon
the Red Sea's storm!
the dynamite of touch!
razzia of devotion!
melt slowly...
into the ghazelle's soft, wet
tender muzzle!



*
*
notes

razzia - a desert raid by desert tribes

Friday, September 11, 2009

Fast Day 119 September 11 2009 {Winslow Homer Sky}



Winslow Homer Sky

She paints where Winslow Homer sat,
looking out to cyan sea's green pelagic vastiness,
through mullions deftly drawn upon a net
of highlight cedars, and glass panes
filled with carandache soul;
dreams the waking dreams of watercolor
and wonders where her brush has gone...
where could she have put it?
Her daughter will soon be wed...
where could she have put it?
The outboard motor's chug is heard
as the punt swings into view,
blinding sun, shooting flowers
on plates of translucent chlorophyll;
her husband returning home,
clothed in sunshine harlequin and clown,
and she dreams of oil paints, layering
thick coats of patina
over umbral background
as he slips into the sea.
*
*
notes:
I was early with this, and I meant to save it, but Blogger had different ideas, and I just did not want to waste time editing, so there it is - one week early.
I wrote the poem yesterday for my wife's birthday.
The persons in the poem could be Penelope and Odysseus, or Georgia O'Keefe and Ansel Adams, or unknown wonders of life.
carandache - Russian word for pencil, also a brand name of crayon: caran d'ache.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Fast Day 105 June 5 2009 {Works and Days: Autumn}


Works And Days: Autumn

orchard, apple trees, blueberry and gowan everywhere one looks.
cordgrass and big blue stem, queen anne's tatting
the thousand blooms launched in Troy
and given to Achilles;
but he would none of it,
and went in exile amidst the general camp
and only brave Hector's blood could call him forth to fight.

of apples: the cole, the pippin, alexander and hawthornden
codlin, the hoary morning and the pearmain
tell us the date and time of year
when the builders moved
and destroyed the one square mile
of reinette land...of rows of trees...the great die-off
of the species of the land with a sign as sure as iridium.

It was just before the bottom fell from out the housing boom,
and left a scar of land, untimely ripped like MacDuff,
from the nurturing mother's love;
yawning between arid hummocks
until that future age and small perchance
when Birnam Wood does resurrect and clamorous comes
to Tel Aviv - as we sit blinking, blinking, in our cage of glass.

I miss the fruits globular, the oval, and apricots of sweet
and bitter kernels both, and the wild hyssops
tall as royalty, wearing original blue
and fleur-de-lys
wild camomile, costmary, chive-
rough diamonds undiscovered - like the value
of all human beings, cut down like trees, crushed like weeds.

© 2009

notes:

generally, a meditation on the destruction of large areas of land during the housing boom. Just before the end, there was an area one square mile destroyed nearby. I can never drive by there anymore. Nothing so far has been built, and it is an open wound as well as retribution.

there was an apple orchard at one time, and the names of many autumnal apples are used.
when I was younger, people used to tell me that Inuit peoples had a couple hundred words for snow and ice in its various forms. what I did not realize was that English speakers have hundreds of words, not only for ice and snow, but for all the things which grow.

{gowan} Scots word meaning wild flowers

{ Achilles } a reference to Achillea Millefolium, or yarrow, and sort of an old-timey invocation to the muses who guided Homer's song of the Iliad.

{ iridium } the element marking the KT geologic boundary which is part of the argument establishing the great die-offs of that age as due to a comet strike.

{ MacDuff } Scots thane who defeated MacBeth; we speak of his birth by Caesarean.

{...arid hummocks } a tasteless pun on something of Horace.

{Tel Aviv } where Adolf Eichmann was tried.

{ last stanza } all mankind has value - none are to be considered as collateral damage.


Friday, February 13, 2009

Fast Day 89 February 13 2009 {A Trip to Les Cheneaux, August 2008}


A Trip To Les Cheneaux, August 2008


We went up north to dance nude on the sand
of a place of wonder and shameless trees;
blinded in the new moon's total darkness,
wearing only reeds and the tails of cats,
we heaved the floating dock
and heard our bodies' band.

The viole of your hips upon the chair,
softly played sweet music of unsung lips.
We run through the peninsular forest to
the erect hill of one recluse pine
whose wind swept brows curtain
our lovely Eden nakedness.

So did jump Adam's heart upon that day
he stood atop that limestone perch coniferous
and gazed at Eva's discovered beauty
and found they were alone, yet not insular;
and the eros of their smiles
and eyes would bridge the bay!

Let's forget the days of lotteries or
football, forget the joy of criminals!
O, unruly parliament of our desires,
each clamouring to catch the Speaker's eye!
standing on our benches,
yelling points of ardor!

Life descends from the genital Sun,
and warms the coldly libidinous Moon;
each light descends to the tidal pools where
we swim in dolphin arabesques of love.
This boundless horizon
no greed will harshen.

notes:
Les Cheneaux are in northern Lake Huron; all limestone, sand, and pines and cedars.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Fast Day 81 December 19 2008 {The Trees}



CHRISTMAS 2008
The Trees

I used to be a tree,
and grew upon a hill;
I used to be arboreal
and deep roots immobile
I thought imprisoned me.
Then from a tangled thicket
I grasped a ring of lapis lazuli,
the joint of 2 bones, and pupil
of the brilliant eye, and was born
my parents most loved fruit
in a storm of heat at
the rising of the Pleiades.
Now...O, now, I see...
and I shall be
soon again a tree,
maenad queen of windswept hills;
pastor triumphant of animals
that flock the virginal
nativity's flash of light!

Saturday, December 6, 2008

Fast Day 78 November 29 2008 {Botanical Classification}


Botanical Classification

wild saffron is carthamus, and it is a winged ant;
a calamity to the unwary, and a head rope
of fruity sweat.

the hound's tongue cynoglossum makes for
a giddy drunkard, or a ship reeling full
four sheets out.

ox-eye buys with ready cash, the boupthalmum
brotherhood of evil-eye and fine clothing, dew-laps
of oxen;
the combs of cocks;
the high places of sacrifice...o, I forget!
the meter, the cadence, the marching feet
of botanical madness and desire!

the amianthus is a ring without a stone,
weaver of ropes and weaver of dreams,
nightingale's song.

eglantine is the wild rose, dispersed through meadows far,
vanguard of Assyrians, troop of Darius, heresiarch religion
through Samarkand's paths!

Fast Day 77 November 21 2008 {Ramaad}


Ramaad

charcoal, ashes,
resurrect the glory of
any bright ringed bird!
The most wonderful adornment
is the gold and silver
chased upon my sword!...
and the oceanic inlet
between your breasts!
the tidal basin where life
was create by God alone!
no artifex needed, no engineer...
He sired the Universe!
the universe now
charcoal, ashses,

Monday, October 6, 2008

Fast Day 71 October 11 2008 {Lake Michigan's Dunes}



Lake Michigan's Dunes

Maple, beech...thinning...
canopy of leaves;
Return forest primeval!

Abandoned pilings,
and empty harbors;
I regret autumn's onset.

Contrary spices:
the sweet and the sour;
high blown dunes and quick descent.

Friday, July 4, 2008

Fast Day 55 June 20, 2008 {Rainbow, Belle Iris...}

rainbow, belle iris of the west...
beautiful tho it is,
is a first course to the feast
where you empepper
the pale tongue of dawn.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Fast Day 53 June 6, 2008 {Kermis-Elephantine}

 Kermis-Elephantine

Kermis-elephantine the leaves come back;

no weed-whacker man may kill them.

Where they had been pushed, pulled, uprooted

and splintered in twain and left for dead in

a cemetery of wooden crosses...

yet they come back in spring, water'd

by the crude runes of acequias and water courses,

filled with sand and silted up, broken down

and breached, a flooded swamp of winter.

They grow now and the water will flow again, wide

pachydermous leaves of shade bearing parasols,

juvenile lady bugs praying at the muezzin's call,

and the queen again will walk through the garden

as ever before, walking through the fragrant flowers,

laughing with her entourage diaphanous fleeting lightly

until the ark of reeds is found again

and all eyes observe

and mankind grows thoughtful once more...

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Fast Day 52 May 30 2008 {Ancient Stories}

Ancient Stories

A tale told in eternity,
more ancient than any existing thing;
and in it there was every being, either for
a purpose wise,
or the beauty that they bring.

The earth had donned its robe of green
with sleeves weighed down with bowers,
and everywhere was thought of you,
...your princess head...
tiara bound with flowers.

Monday, August 20, 2007

Fast Day 12 August 25, 2007 {Going Extinct}

It's a hard rain and a bloody heck lot of poems gonna fall!



One thing about fasting, it makes one grouchy. With me, nobody catches on to the difference.





Going Extinct

It means not having to get up in the morning and go to work;
you may wear a sweat suit all day
(and not even sweat)
and people treat you a lot nicer than
they ever did when you were quick
and in their face
and competing for limited resources

People offer you a seat on the subway or on the bus.
Everyone says “Yes, sir.” and “No, thank you, Ma’am.”
and “Fine day, sir.”
and they don’t give you dirty looks when
you mistakenly think them manure
or even worse
a carnivore’s meal, yum!

People sit around in bars and say what a great guy you were.
while you willow-whisp like Patrick Swayze,
looking for your Whoopi
and she not there…
and you go and cry in yer beer
so amber colored
and see your phone number in the john later!

Nobody returns your phone calls anymore. No one cares.
Ever the passenger pigeons of your desire
go unanswered.
The Yangtze dolphin and the Dodo sit and drool
ignored in the corridor all day
and you gaze forever
at Hasim’s Curry Palace across Lawrence Street.

Saturday, July 28, 2007

Fast Day 8 July 27 2007 {Poem for Fast Day 8}

The War continues.

Saw the movie "Gandhi" again.
God must have an odd sense of humor. He says "Every time I send a good person to you humans, you kill 'em! What's with you people? I mean, I even sent my own son...and you CRUCIFIED him!"
God shakes His head in disbelief.








Poem for Fast Day 8
When the City came to destroy the vegetation along Adams Road.

every growing stick has a face
wild flowers grow…like wild, you know.
diverse populations…
they piss some people off. I forest walk...
the legs of my pants smell like mallow
and stem juice white.

men come to spread death’s carpet.
wet lands with cats tails eight feet tall…
looking down on our heads…
they beat them down. broken.
my shoes are muddy and smell like herbicide;
I hear raccoon breath at 3 a.m.

If I care, I feel so sad; so why care?
why should I care…or connect.
a gas powered weed whacker comes,
mighty roar of fossil fuel. We run.
my shirt fruity with sweat
and hot memories of Adonis.

who cries for Adonis? am I his keeper?
there are weed control laws.
you are a weed, too, if you piss us
off! Free...you forget your clothes…
you walk nakedly trees…
the forest remembers you!