March 2, 2010
Chers amis, we hear again of another earth quaking and the suffering of multitudes (Chili). But as Théodore Monod stated so eloquently, once man has disappeared, nauture will continue on. I am looking forward to the return of the migrating species this spring, although my swallows have not returned once again. It has been four years now since I have hosted a colony of purple martins. They had returned previously for twenty springs. Loss of habitat. Loss of habit. Who knows? Grizzlies are invading the territory of the polar bear and Québec has suffered through a year pitifully warm and without snow. Now that the snow-plow concession is in danger, maybe finally we will be able to address the question of global warming. But I digress.... This month's poem is entitled:
Flying in the flock
push of wing breath
and all about black fluttering,
the sound of many wings
from the field alight
in great spiral whooshing
tornado inverse with energy holes
and push of black.
the remains of possum
in the mad road
possum spirit
swirled away by
black wing.
while sparrows claim
the visitors hollow,
and swallows return
from the South,
searching a vacant
space to fill.
flying in the flock
big birds
little birds,
every kind
of which
a bird
flying
every
kind of
which
a way.
February 2, 2010
Chers amis, here is the second in my series in honor of the year of poetry. I am pleased to offer you photos as well. Each month, the new photo on the home page will be one of mine. This month: an Eastern Phoebe. The photo was taken chez moi in Louisiana. Each december, an Eastern Phoebe arrives to pass the winter. He will depart in March. This bird makes a wonderful subject, posing on a branch for long periods, waiting for a bug. The poem this month is called:
12 December
By candle light in the evening
I read you poems from the Japanese while
Calm and still you laying beside me
gently breathing I wonder at your beauty.
I am like the trees on this winter edge
fearful, perhaps waiting to die.
The candle flame is strong and
there are no breezes save these whispered
Words to make it dance. You are silent
with worry showing in the
Corner of your eyes like the branches
of the trees in the snow.
January 6, 2010
Chers amis, For eight years now, I have published this report. I began writing it to share my vision of the world. I have written about all that touches me: the natural environment, the question of Acadian identity, the struggle to preserve linguistic culture in Louisiana, resistance to injustice, defense of those without defense, the politics of Louisiana, France, Québec and the good ole USA. At this, the beginning of a new decade, I asked myself what can I propose to you that will be fresh. My point of view on most things (bordering on the pinko) is easy enough to determine thanks to this report, and I have said just about all that I can say about the things that touch me the most. I have therefore decided to attempt to improve things in a different way. Enough of ranting and raving against GMOs, Monsanto, mosquitoes, ring-worms and Republicans. This year, I have decided to publish a new poem each month, in fact two poems since I will publish in English and French, each poem unique and not simply a translation of the other. I hope by this to spread a little beauty in this world. I will attempt to respect the seasons in the spirit of Japanese haiku, but I will attempt most of all to follow my heart. I hope you will enjoy. The first poem of the English series is called:
Gorgeous Wings
Child’s conversation:
what if you had wings
that were too big for you to fly,
if you were a tiny tiny man.
Like colt fever,
Breathing melodies
to become your black jaguar sigh
and nets of trembling
(gorgeous wings to fan your bed.)
In the rivers.
In the sun.
|