Crunch of boot in snow
thunder cracks in the distance
ice, cold as darkness
May 11, 2010
mountain laurel
Wet falling snow plops,
a crow cries in the distance
from trees hard as ice.
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April 19, 2010
nethermeade
Went walking in the Propect Park with the dog yesterday, and they had one of our favorite spots fenced off with this 10, maybe 12 foot high chain link fence, from the Nethermead all the way down to the bridge to the Boathouse, that whole Lullwater section fenced off. They had erected a band shell, and placed about a hundred port-a-potties. Something having to do with Earth Day, Live, a concert perhaps, for Earth Week? We walked around to the other side of the Lullwater, and i saw a male and a female cardinal on a red maple tree, and a snowy egret down in the reeds by the water. From off in the distance the generators by the band shell were roaring, and i could not help thinking that this is what we do, fence stuff in, and burn fossil fuel to proclaim our love of nature. Its a little sick, to have an earth day, when, when you think about it, everyday is Earth Day.
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April 16, 2010
radiant and immutable
Dont ask me what i was doing on a web site of X-Files quotations. Nothing but xfiles quotes. And then i saw this, from season three, i think, a fictional Native American from a show about extraterrestials, talking about those who seek the truth. It resonates with me, however, far greater than anything i have seen on ‘reality tv’.
There is an ancient Indian saying that something lives only as long as the last person who remembers it. My people have come to trust memory over history. Memory, like fire, is radiant and immutable while history serves only those who seek to control it, those who douse the flame of memory in order to put out the dangerous fire of truth. Beware these men for they are dangerous themselves and unwise. Their false history is written in the blood of those who might remember and of those who seek the truth.
Albert Hosteen
THE X-FILES
The Blessing Way
So i wonder if i have ever found anything radiant and immutable? This must be what Plato was thinking when he formulated his idea of ideal forms, reality being just the flickering shadows on the wall of a cave. The idea never fades, although what we call reality crumbles like old mortar, decays like flesh rotting from the bone.
This is why we tell stories, to keep the things alive.
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