Friday, March 27, 2020

Notes on a Small Planet

Lichens or lichen? Where does one lichen stop and another begin? Well, I'll leave it "lichens" in this haiga.

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The pileated woodpeckers seem unusually active this spring, or perhaps that's just because I've been taking more and longer walks. Have you seen one, a woodpecker larger than a crow with a flame-red crest of feathers and white stripes on the wings? Go out and watch. It's okay, even, if you live in town, because once in my backyard I looked toward the busy street and there, on a telephone pole, was a pileated woodpecker. One may see anything anywhere.

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More closely than ever, marking the cycles of rain sun, rain.

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One may see anything anywhere. But there are ways to increase the odds.

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Recent trees: beech, black cherry, white pine, chestnut oak, hemlock. Maples, but I need to see leaves before I say species. Same with the hickories (mockernut? pignut?), though I should be able to tell from the shells halved and piled up by squirrels.

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Pay attention to the trees.

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A fine country, if one looks to the lichens, mosses, ferns for guidance.



Tuesday, March 17, 2020

Adaptation Notes

Notes to Self:

Adaptation is not the same thing as capitulation.

Poetry doesn't simply still matter; it matters more than ever.

This is what it feels like to live in the Age of Extinction. Every species is vulnerable, including our own. Tell the story.

Things do not "happen for a reason." Those who are adaptable learn from what happens and find—maybe even MAKE—a reason to go on.

Five thousand books to read; five thousand poems to write. Go!

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lichen and fern
is it really so easy
to adapt to stone