Often there is bone-trill in me When birds of prey near. Their wings Displacing air, the sound dopplered & trailing. Yesterday an eagle eight feet Over trail, apparition in heavy Cloud appertaining to pinnacle & peak. Briefly, a bolt of fear, shock Of my smallness. A landscape redolent With varied lives reduces yours Unto pinpoint, unto what I’d thought Of as almost disappearance. But That is the province of man. What is cyclical, Spurred by fecundity & churn, what Bears out the elemental, is beyond us. Our deaths at each other’s hands A mockery of the world’s need & hunger. We craft lives in which your name Erases with your small body. In which The elemental cedes to flimsy Inventories of meaning. Maybe yours Is a name iterative of its import, Abdul. Maybe repeated in its repeating The intransigence of life coupled With world, with world-awe, meaning Preceding all naming. May it, wordless, Sing your name this morning.
On the trail to our cabin, the wind shifts & sculpts the landscape at whim, hurling blankets of sustained 30 mph gusts across the tundra & depositing snow in undulating moguls that cover over our precious tracks. We see gales of up to 75 mph fairly routinely. I have skied home ten feet behind my wife on many occasions & been unable to discern her tracks. Say a word & the wind will carry it aloft & away. Drop a liner glove or a hat & you wait until spring to retrieve it. In the places I’ve lived prior to Alaska, I’ve known snow to behave in any number of ways. Here, for whatever diaphanous splendor it may reveal in the structure of the flake, it is always, always dry. When it drifts, the sugary weight of it transforms into the consistency of concrete. People use chainsaws to dig out trail. & when the wind & the snow conspire, people here know precisely what to expect & what to do. No matter the temperature, our community knows to check routinely o...
This one, dear reader, is long & sad & about my Pops who died. Been thinking on him lately, so here it is. I think probably I'll keep adding onto this one for as long as I'm alive-- a letter I'll keep writing. I feel like it has a filament of life in it. Anyways. Buckle up. Eulogy I remember thinking Unsieved, maybe, a glottal Clarity in my throat. Chest Laden, a dizzied breath & Undone. My father Leaning against the doorframe A brief music for darkness To clutch, winged, absented. Where did you go? I am Still moving, tree to tree, trading One constellation for another. I want A longer breath & so take one but am left Unchanged. The day Expands. Clumped soil, cutlass of river Says bank & cuts & says bank again & all The long while, bare & clear, river carries water & water carries refracted light, fractured light, Shard of disfigured sun. It sings your song These many miles away. Carries its broken Melodies to the Bering Sea. What m...
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