Sunday, August 23, 2009

kiva


Reading Stephen Maurer's poem Mimi's Solution, at first I thought instead of 'yurt' he meant a different circle structure, 'kiva,' like the one pictured here. Only this is ruins of a kiva, a ceremonial room, a sacred place for those who built these walls. But of course, his poem itself reveals that he meant 'yurt.' And the link below his poem leads to a kiva experience.

Still, it reminded me of Chaco Canyon, where the photo was taken. It is a national park, whose website includes this under 'directions' - "Warning: Some of the local roads recommended by map publishers and services using GPS devices to access Chaco are unsafe for passenger cars." They might have warned, too, that even the road they recommend is a 35 km journey after you turn off the highway to Cuba, NM, and much of this road seems designed to shake you until you wonder what parts might have come loose and fallen off your car.

This tends to discourage casual tourists, apparently, because we had the place almost entirely to ourselves. And Chaco Canyon is a beautiful place to go, to camp. To walk amid the ruins and feel the presence of their absence, of those people who built and lived there and chiseled their symbols in the rocks. Who grew from children and themselves raised families in this community, in this culture. And added stones to its walls. Someone told us that the word Anasazi is Navajo, and has come to mean 'cliff dwellers,' but originally meant something like 'ancient ones.' Or, said another way, it meant 'we don't know who they were.'

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Friday, August 21, 2009

Mimi's Solution

Anasazi relics placed in morning stillness
under a shaded New Mexican sun,
Mimi gazes over pinion pines and slickrock hoodoos.
Above Rio Puerco's entrenched meander,
hawks float lazily along a layered cliff,
breezes pushing them over fenced lands.
The skeletal remains of her yurt
frame sagebrushed sandswells.

Whistling softly, she alerts a field mouse
wondering if it's her old friend,
whose nightly incursions on lightning feet
transgressed yurt walls.
Politely taking crumbs, too wily for traps,
his circling wariness became grudging respect.

She sees regular trespassers on Anglo land,
renegade spanish cowboys who travel
the old roads across Anglo property,
validating themselves rightful owners of the Piedra Lumbre.
Their cattle, soft-eyed and single file,
seem entitled anywhere.

The yellowed yurt frames an old reflection:
the homeowners of "Las Animas de Abiquiu"
proclaimed property values paramount;
the yurt could no longer stand,
must be replaced by a thickwalled hacienda,
Santa Fe style, required by the covenants.

Now from a nearby cottage,
she moves nomadically,
coming and going politely,
transgressing borders
like the hawks and mouse,
and the Spanish.

---
for Mimi H.

words: Stephen Maurer, Washington.
& more, here: Anasazi (poem#7)

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Thursday, August 20, 2009

this way




right down the path


for now not sure where
you go with it gone

but are you going to go
the way of the arrow

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dis play/ce



triangle sky
museum trails
museum trails leading
through centuries
through relicts

of civilization
of civilization captured
of civation labeled
of civshipped

put up
onon exhibition
onon this stone ground

overwhelmed we sit
overwhelmed we sip
overwhelmed we sip sorganic coffee
next to a totem

that someone
dis
dis(played)
dis(placed

here

----
words+image: Dorothee Lang, Germany (virtual notes)

& more about the display/ced place: here.

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Thursday, August 13, 2009

You And Me

We live on assume.
Assume your next breath
will not be your last.
Assume your car will start
Tomorrow so you can rest
Tonight, or if not, take the bus.
Assume slippery slopes are
Amenable to crampons.
Assume your mantle will
Soon support awards
That tower over Al Gore’s.
Assume you will wait for
The other pair of socks to
Thaw each April morn while
Sucking out the moisture, so
You will know the flavored
Dew of different seasons.
Assume there will not be
Tomorrow and inject drugs
That will not retaliate until later.

Assume you will be fruitful
And multiple, by not spending
Allowances on frivolities.
Assume the time to assume for life is an assumption.
------------------------------Every tick is assumption.
-----------------------------Every wave is assumption.
-------------------Every birth and death is assumption.
My coffee is gone.

---
words: Paul Handley (more)

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Monday, August 10, 2009

This might get messy

or:
Superhuman

It's an eight hour drive to Mokpo, the southern coast of Korea. The forest starts right at the yellow line at the edge of the paved road. The canopies make mountains that slope up and down--like giant, mossed elephants lying next to the freeway. It feels like I can run down their green trunks, jumping atop one head to the next. The crisp air pierced my pores and I could breathe again. But I didn't know that I'd been suffocating. And these psycho-social images: money, career, family, time, an inability to provide. Unnatural fear and concern left me, carving off the inhibiting excess that held me back from being human. Not human to err, but to be surpassing with inexhaustible room for growth. And human capacity--innate consciousness over rocks, body over plants, mind and reason over animals.

I wanted the lush sight to sink into my bones, the feeling that I could bound over the mountain edge into the black space. I must have been in a snow globe when the top cracked open, a whole set of capabilities and vigor widening my mind. Like I hit "empty bin" to the trash I didn't know that held me back physically, mentally, psychologically, socially from fitting dreams/goals into a worth life. Sometimes, there are grave mounds on the mountainside, the old generations that sleep with one eye open. I smiled out of ego. The past and their spirits, the precursor staring wearily at the future generation that drives by on bald tires. The feared world they must have left. I wanted to make them proud.

----
words: Angela Koh, Korea/California (
blog)

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Thursday, August 06, 2009

East Vancouver Detours

This past weekend I went for a walk and saw things that reminded me of detours, so took some shots - click the images for full-size-view:


Waterfall in the Italian Gardens at Hastings Park


Boardwalk in the Sanctuary at Hastings Park


Pedestrian tunnel under train tracks at New Brighton Park

----
images: Karyn Eisler, Canada (
more)

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Saturday, August 01, 2009

It takes an artist to paint the light loss


to see &

to for it

the shift of

that other

the way the

moves through

fingerprints upon

ribs & & lips & &

their there &

come calm now

then now then

animal blinking its

to see &

sucked still

for it

birds still

loss of

& &

----
words: Steven Karl, NY (
Lover's Last Go Around)

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