Palinode (Texas, cedar, misery)
More than repression, more than fate and the captive idiom. More
than denial. More than the juniper’s red wind, the grackles’ flocked
effervescence. More. My friend lives on clay and I, on stone. How
to express stability’s process, the jurisdiction of pollen? The warbler
suffers no choice but that of extinction; it requires. It breathes. It
feeds, it sings and yet we come to excision. Destruction, with no
thought to consequence. Wet clay expands. Stone is constant.
Stone is constant but harbors no thought to permanence. We are
its mineral, pressing for wisdom and the eternal: to gain entrance.
Look closely. The juniper berry is a cone whose scales have merged.
I seek space and find habitat bounded in half-truths and careless
talk as the north wind broadcasts microspores throughout my
neighborhood. Inhale and know the power of propagation. Helpless
in its path, we think only to escape.
We think only to escape and instead wear misery in the attempt.
Crusted eyes, raw throats. Diminished patience. Our neighbor
chain-sawed his female cedar years ago, but his discomfort continued
unabated. The Juniper Hairstreak butterfly overwinters as a chrysalis.
Golden Cheek Warblers nest among its limbs. I flavor food with its
berries, relish the shade in July, the fragrance, year-round. Celebrating
coexistence, we sneeze. My saw lies still.
They who sneeze together wheeze together, or something like that! We sure love us our shared afflictions.
Your palinodes rock my world.
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Ha! Who better to understand these afflictions?
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Texan here! Don’t I know all too well about what you say.
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Misery is best shared, or so they say. Ha.
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Or so they say!!🤣
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Of course we have to wonder who “they” are!
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No kiddin’!
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Pingback: a grumpy gift: Palinode (Texas, cedar, misery) — O at the Edges | hands in the garden
I loved this. Especially the last line.
Call me a hippie, but every tree cut is one too many for me.
And the only way us humans might have is to coexist with all
other inhabitants on Earth, especially the ones that predate us.
Really great poem. I had to reread it a couple of times.
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Thanks, Matthias. I’ve cut down quite a few dead trees, but try to let the living trees alone. They offer so much!
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Excellent. Your saw lies still, your neighbour’s hasn’t made him happier. I particularly like ‘ the grackles’ flocked
effervescence.’
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Every year people talk about eradicating local cedar trees (which are actually junipers, but that’s another story), without thought to ecological consequence. Drives me batty!
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I find myself anticipating as I read your poetry, Bob, alert to the juxtaposition or turn of phrase that will surprise, open (and, inevitably) delight me. You never disappoint; thank you.
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Thank you, Cate. You are always so kind. I just follow the words…
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Extinction is much on my mind. How can life fit life together when we are pulling it apart?
The repetition and rhythm of this form is lovely. (K)
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