Cruising into Colison with Turkey Day

The great day of overeating and preparing mentally for shopping is nearly upon all of us. This has very little relevance to anything, but just figured it was worth posting. Saying the most obvious things are occasionally the most enjoyable. Bloomington is emptying out for another great American migration to points distant and I now find myself with a little respite to do some writing and relaxing.

The BGSU Winter Wheat Festival was pretty awesome and is definitely worth checking out some time for those that might not be down with it yet. Ohio in general seems to have a great writing culture and Winter Wheat really pushes that culture into a highly visible sphere. The students and writers (sometimes both) that we met all seemed top notch and really into doing some pretty cool stuff. The NEOMFA through those northern universities in Ohio just seems like it could be a pretty cool thing to get hooked up with. All in all Karen Craigo and company made the IU crew feel quite comfortable on our northern expedition.

Back to work on the Novella after sometime off. Tentatively title "The Bastion of Industrial Decline," (still) it should be completed sometime in the next two months. Time permitting of course. Additionally, I've almost finished a poetry chapbook and will be putting it out in the next couple of months either by publisher (one can always dream) or by self-publishing. I've gotten a solid body of works from poetry workshop and the McGrath master class here at IU.

I need to get back to posting poetry. So for autumn, I figured a little Gary Snyder. I've been reading him a tonne lately and it always worthwhile to post whats been on your mind. Enjoy the bird.

Four Poems for Robin

by Gary Snyder

Siwashing it out once in Siuslaw Forest

I slept under rhododendron

All night blossoms fell

Shivering on a sheet of cardboard

Feet stuck in my pack

Hands deep in my pockets

Barely able to sleep.

I remembered when we were in school

Sleeping together in a big warm bed

We were the youngest lovers

When we broke up we were still nineteen.

Now our friends are married

You teach school back east

I dont mind living this way

Green hills the long blue beach

But sometimes sleeping in the open

I think back when I had you.

A spring night in Shokoku-ji

Eight years ago this May

We walked under cherry blossoms

At night in an orchard in Oregon.

All that I wanted then

Is forgotten now, but you.

Here in the night

In a garden of the old capital

I feel the trembling ghost of Yugao

I remember your cool body

Naked under a summer cotton dress.

An autumn morning in Shokoku-ji

Last night watching the Pleiades,

Breath smoking in the moonlight,

Bitter memory like vomit

Choked my throat.

I unrolled a sleeping bag

On mats on the porch

Under thick autumn stars.

In dream you appeared

(Three times in nine years)

Wild, cold, and accusing.

I woke shamed and angry:

The pointless wars of the heart.

Almost dawn. Venus and Jupiter.

The first time I have

Ever seen them close.

December at Yase

You said, that October,

In the tall dry grass by the orchard

When you chose to be free,

“Again someday, maybe ten years.”

After college I saw you

One time. You were strange.

And I was obsessed with a plan.

Now ten years and more have

Gone by: I’ve always known

where you were—

I might have gone to you

Hoping to win your love back.

You still are single.

I didn’t.

I thought I must make it alone. I

Have done that.

Only in dream, like this dawn,

Does the grave, awed intensity

Of our young love

Return to my mind, to my flesh.

We had what the others

All crave and seek for;

We left it behind at nineteen.

I feel ancient, as though I had

Lived many lives.

And may never now know

If I am a fool

Or have done what my

karma demands.