L'aura del Campo

Bells, drunks and cattle prods

Winter: 6 Mulk (February 12)

2006-02-12
vespers, 29 degrees. 27 in New York and 37 in Tahlequah, OK.

So New York got snow? A couple flurries here, not enough for sledding, which is too bad because we have some excellent sledding hills.

Cold, though. I froze as I listened to the carillon concert. Even Hatsumi and Hina, her papillon, couldn't stay more than a couple minutes. Wrote a poetic sketch. Included my lengthening shadow. At one point I paced off 43 feet. The dying sun wasn't warming nuthingk, but I stayed to speak with Prof. Berghout as I always do. She played Suite for Guitar by Robert de Visée and Music for Twilight by Frank della Penna.

Called my mom so she could hear the bells. She always loves the bells.

SENSED

Mourning dove; daffodil buds; stray flake; chill sunshine; oak leaf falling; snow at the base of a stone wall; bare concrete; paper tossing in the breeze; the gutter beer can rocking.

Pale hornets nest next to a blue Bud Light; a small grey bird in a nest in the smoke-tree; an 8 ounce Natural Light; Coors Light; pigeons journeying into the breeze, one streetlamp at a time; my 43' shadow stretching towards tomorrow's dawn; the bells announcing the coming hour.

All in this college town.

Read some Richard Hugo, including Ci Vediamo in his book The Triggering Town. Awesome writing, including some poetry, about his experience in Italy (Puglia) in 1944 during WW II and in 1963. His writing has a sense of honesty. Too bad he died relatively young in 1982. He taught at U. Montana.

Today, can poets be so honest? With the level of insecurity in the USA we are regressing to the early 50s and the Red Scare of McCarthyism. Beware of what you write in your blog, is all I can say!

On the other hand we have Cheney, who as vice president, actually shot someone today! (By accident, I'm sure) Gawd, now I feel like we're back at the turn of the century with Teddy Roosevelt. Does anyone know a hill this country can conquer? (like in the Spanish-American War 1898, Cuba) Aw, shucks, Iraqs got plenty. 'Tain't all sand, y'know. Maybe Cheney can lead the cavalry.

But we wouldn't want to make the analogy to Wyoming cowboys now would we? Can you imagine a Brokeback-gate in Washington? Oh, my! We may have to replace the old man with his daughter.

Rough poetic sketch from this afternoon:

Inkling of a cow prod day

Here in the valley of the drunks,
the tight pants and the peg-leg fight.
One thrusts his shoulders; one hops the rail.
We (the not involved) complain to no avail.
Our safety and our sanity lay far beyond
their concern today or any day.
Here in the valley of the drop punch drunks
we hold our thoughts at bay
but grab our hidden cattle prods. [162.752]