The following entries are journal writings and poetry, circa 1975-77
Spent
last
weekend at the farm with Sarah Young and Valerie Ohanian.
Extraordinarily full!
Floating down the river in truck-sized inner tubes, past the Hintz’s
houseboat,
past the changing shoreline. We walked and swam naked in the river,
plunged in like
slick porpoises. Skittered across shallow waters drenched with sunlight
and a breeze
that tossed the silvery-green maple branches, swaying over the river.
Lush, green
river bottom lands, everything so alive with wind and light, light on
the water,
reflections rippling up tree trunks, the feeling of total immersion in
the river. Swinging out on a rope over the water, letting go, the splash
(that’s how I hurt my foot). We played, did tricks with our inner
tubes, named ourselves the "women’s guerrilla tortilla flotilla army."
Remember where we lay on our bellies, naked in the sand, our
bottoms shaking with silent laughter as the canoe slipped by us?
The day was long and full. We ate fruit, watermelon, nectarines, oranges, grapes, apples. We walked in the hot sand. We piled our truck-sized innertubes in a boat piloted by Matthew Hintz, jumped in and laughed when the tiny boat filled up with water and began to sink. (It didn’t.) And then the drive back to the city with a darkening, cloud-mottled stormy sky. Later in bed, listening to the thunder, lightning and rain.
There are times when this land
near Osceola, Wisconsin
loses all familiarity.
By day, the questions lay sleeping -
no mind can hold the blood sun up.
When the sun sets on the far bluffs
of this river valley
and leaves a
rose haze on the horizon
and I stand on lightning hill
this side of the river
with a view of the earth and sky encircling me
and the full moon
is a pale gong
silently reverberating
I know that the precise combination of scents, colors,
and sounds carried on the breeze this evening
is the exact replica of God.
God is a note, a pure note which contains all notes,
and a color which contains all colors.
Each moment frames a pure and complete aspect of God,
though God is a moment which contains all moments.
The day I find God
will be the day that contains all days.
The face of God
will contain the sun.
--------------------
The mystery of beauty
Beauty is sacred.
As as Borges says, in this world of ours
beauty is very common.
What is beauty?
The thought of beauty is what precedes creation and feeling.
Beauty is senses exalted.
Beauty is the feelings exalted.
Beauty is the mind exalted.
Beauty, like birth, is given.
In the end, it is synonymous with function.
There are those who believe that beauty is a luxury…
-------
Come Back, Spirit
Spirit dog hill
squash skull hill
lightning hill
pine tree hill
Spirit of all deer
come back
come back
to the city,
with our listening ears
turned to you
bring us back silence
Mullein plant:
soft, green phosphorescence
sublime elegance
listening ear of the fields,
come back
come back to the city
with snow crystals
on your soft, furry leaves,
teach us to stand tall
teach us to be gentle
teach us to pray
Wild river geese
with you seasonal migrations
with your cry of freedom
come back
bring glory back to the city
Wild plums
field grapes
choke cherries
butternuts
bring your sweetness, your sourness, your bitterness
back to the city
bring us back your abundance
bring us gratitude
Beaver, fox, racoon and badger
come back
drumming grouse, spotted hawk
black crow and hooting owl
come back
bring your voices
your movements
your nests, your holes, your dams
Wild flowers, tree roots and cold springs
spread new life underneath our concrete
burst out everywhere
seep around our feet
River current
fill our legs with power
fill our throats with praise
Rise up spirit of the land
Rise up spirit of the people
Fill our hearts with rain and wind and earth
Fill our eyes with sky
No comments:
Post a Comment