you must be depressed my neighbor says as she drops off lillies
i'm looking forward to spring and hope you'll be well by then
spring? with six new inches of snow tonight? this spring?
I can't even bear to lie and say no or yes
the days are fine, but evening and each day's death
too much. I wait for the sun, for April, for answers.
Lake with Ice
We drove out to the lake yesterday and again this evening. The skies are filled with Canada geese, snow geese, and a multitude of ducks with their wings beating wildly. The lake is almost frozen solid, and this is a huge lake mind you, and the ducks and geese crowd around the edges of the open water.
Yesterday, between the flights of geese, I spotted an eagle. I've been lucky to see at least one or so a year as long as we've lived here. I don't know what he was doing, though, flying over the cow barns at the ag college. Picking off pigeons perhaps?
Tonight at dusk, we drove by a field with hundreds of mallards. The sound of them taking flight was beautiful. Comically, a few ducks stayed down until the flock was quite far away. Then, one would rise up and frantically flap towards the flock. This was repeated several times; I suspect they believed the flock would resettle, but they were off towards the lake to raft for the evening.
A heron waded in the overflow of the dam; a flock of redheads flew above us. The ducks seem frantic in flight compared to the measured flapping of the geese.
How to make this poetry? I'm still thinking about it.
Yesterday, between the flights of geese, I spotted an eagle. I've been lucky to see at least one or so a year as long as we've lived here. I don't know what he was doing, though, flying over the cow barns at the ag college. Picking off pigeons perhaps?
Tonight at dusk, we drove by a field with hundreds of mallards. The sound of them taking flight was beautiful. Comically, a few ducks stayed down until the flock was quite far away. Then, one would rise up and frantically flap towards the flock. This was repeated several times; I suspect they believed the flock would resettle, but they were off towards the lake to raft for the evening.
A heron waded in the overflow of the dam; a flock of redheads flew above us. The ducks seem frantic in flight compared to the measured flapping of the geese.
How to make this poetry? I'm still thinking about it.
New Stack
I've bought a few new books from the local booksellers:
The Darkness Around Us is Deep Selected Poems of William Stafford
The Names of the Rapids by Jonathan Holden
Mystery, So Long by Stephen Dobyns
Now that my Father Lies Down Beside Me by Stanley Plumly
A New Selected Poems by Galway Kinnell
The Collected Poems of Weldon Kees
Trans by Hilda Raz
New and Selected Poems by Mary Oliver
Silence in the Snowy Fields by Robert Bly
Ten Russian Poets: Surviving the 20th Century
I catch whispers of them talking together on the shelf: "my only swerving," "that urge towards more life," "announcing your place/in the family of things," "what the full moon portends--/nothing," "the ways of dying, the ways of sleep."
Awake and listening, I pay attention.
The Darkness Around Us is Deep Selected Poems of William Stafford
The Names of the Rapids by Jonathan Holden
Mystery, So Long by Stephen Dobyns
Now that my Father Lies Down Beside Me by Stanley Plumly
A New Selected Poems by Galway Kinnell
The Collected Poems of Weldon Kees
Trans by Hilda Raz
New and Selected Poems by Mary Oliver
Silence in the Snowy Fields by Robert Bly
Ten Russian Poets: Surviving the 20th Century
I catch whispers of them talking together on the shelf: "my only swerving," "that urge towards more life," "announcing your place/in the family of things," "what the full moon portends--/nothing," "the ways of dying, the ways of sleep."
Awake and listening, I pay attention.
Revising one's plans
So, just over two weeks ago, the doctors showed me a photograph of the cancer infecting my intestines. And last week, I went under the knife and had that piece of the plumbing removed.
With that done, I've also lost most of my teaching related to-do list, the semester is scrapped, and I'm not sure what to do with myself right now. But I need a list, so I'm thinking that these few months, while I'm recovering and possibly still fighting off illness, I'll focus on my own poetry. I knew last semester that I needed to create time to write in my daily life; here is the time. I know I need to send some more work "out" and of course, read more; here is the time.
The surgeon is near my age. We went to universities in neighboring towns. I wonder if I ever fed him a meal in all my years of waiting tables.
They make it seem so easy; open, snip, stitch, staple. Yet, I feel like a handful of loose beads after the strand has been severed.
With that done, I've also lost most of my teaching related to-do list, the semester is scrapped, and I'm not sure what to do with myself right now. But I need a list, so I'm thinking that these few months, while I'm recovering and possibly still fighting off illness, I'll focus on my own poetry. I knew last semester that I needed to create time to write in my daily life; here is the time. I know I need to send some more work "out" and of course, read more; here is the time.
The surgeon is near my age. We went to universities in neighboring towns. I wonder if I ever fed him a meal in all my years of waiting tables.
They make it seem so easy; open, snip, stitch, staple. Yet, I feel like a handful of loose beads after the strand has been severed.
Skating at the edge of the Wood
Musee des Beaux Arts
by W.H. Auden
About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how well, they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
by W.H. Auden
About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how well, they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
Anticipating the Future
One thing that my experience with cancer has taught me beyond a doubt is that it is absolutely pointless to worry about the future when there is zero chance that you can actually influence it. One should do the best they can and then let go, let it be in the hands of the universe. I also learned that something that dominates your life for months can seem like a footnote later. As the saying goes, "This too shall pass."
A good lesson, yes. Something I needed to know, yes.
When I was in active treatment, I would come home and the boys would be out swimming or playing soccer at the park and at first I would be annoyed. Their life went on, even while I stuggled. Then one day I realized, that their life goes on is a gift. They laugh, they talk about the tadpoles and the crawdads in the creek, about the ducks, about the wonderful blocks and kicks they made. They sing operatically to each other and often are lost in their books. There are hints of the men they will before long become. This is the gift, they can go on without me. I hope they will not have to go on alone yet. I'm planning on being around for a long time yet myself. But whatever comes, there will still be laughter.
There is still joy even when we are at our weakest.
I have lost much of my fear.
A good lesson, yes. Something I needed to know, yes.
When I was in active treatment, I would come home and the boys would be out swimming or playing soccer at the park and at first I would be annoyed. Their life went on, even while I stuggled. Then one day I realized, that their life goes on is a gift. They laugh, they talk about the tadpoles and the crawdads in the creek, about the ducks, about the wonderful blocks and kicks they made. They sing operatically to each other and often are lost in their books. There are hints of the men they will before long become. This is the gift, they can go on without me. I hope they will not have to go on alone yet. I'm planning on being around for a long time yet myself. But whatever comes, there will still be laughter.
There is still joy even when we are at our weakest.
I have lost much of my fear.
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