THIS PACE




Why was it

    so silent

alone in the

    dark woods?


Not a sound

    in the scrub

near bluffs,

    eerily quiet.


I arrived to

    observe wild-

life but

              night came

and never

    there before,

the pace

    reflected

my deter-

    mination:

to get to

    bed 2 hours

      away on foot.


Now I feel

    a fool, rush-

ing to be some-

    place else strive

for my destin-

    ation, like a car

or mad dog of

   bad behavior.


The animals

                were fear-

ful of my

   wake of old

lessons. I

     woke may-

be even

   the birds,

because a fast

    pace is where

predators follow.


     Isolated by

my own do-

    ing, yearn-

ing to recip-

    rocate with

surroundings:

     atoms and the

universe, re-

    flections, pat-

         terns in nature,


                             vs. 
                    
                        this pace

                    of concrete

                and oil,

wondering

       how to

    express my

humanity?


This is an epilogue to the earlier poem Tuning in Point Reyes

photo above: SF 12.23.13, an unknown but beautiful fungi bloom
photo here below: SF 8.9.13, California oak moth larva: Phryganidia californica



the mourning dove

winter solstice 12/21/13

A male dove nearby calls 20x

in a row, rushed. He gets no 
response. Mate gone or rather
the signs of known scarcity, or
a last war song before battle?

The longest night and dry, a warm valley 

breeze and strong noon sun. Together on
the sandy shore, barefoot and needing
hats to block the Pacific's reflection: I pro-
mised to dance for rain and worship water.

To celebrate the winter solstice, we lit

candles and blew out as a wave after
the poet read her poem with audience 
participation: "Earth Fire Water Air"
and young children kept their flames.

How to survive as the most hunted 

bird in North America? Lay lots fer-
tile eggs and grow up at a young age.
Sing a sweet, sad melody in the eve-
ning and figure out how to flee quick-

ly like the pair of doves now flying,

far from the coyotes who have be-
gun the return to their part of the 
story, with porpoises and mountain 
lion (hidden from human and dog.)

--------
Here below is an addendum to get out, air any harboring anger and resentment...maybe I'll edit and add to it later, turn it into a slam poem to compete -since Oakland is hosting the 2014 National Poetry Slam on August 5-9, 2014! Or this could become a song with the first sentence also the refrain:

I am truth looking inside
you. The late night porn
throbbing like shopping
sprees, the Target vio-
lations of credit security
everywhere email compro-
mises, addresses, cell
phone, GPS coordinates.

All that and your inheritance,
your need for gun ammunition.
I am of the American dreams.
I am your denial, your fester 
swept under the rug silent,
your clean backyard with
tall fences, no leaf litter
and over-watered lawns.


photo: Rodeo Beach, Marin Headlands 12/28/13
The 5-pointed star aka a star pentagon or pentagram originated in ancient Sumer, in southern Mesopotamia (modern Iraq) Sumerian is the language/native tongue which was spoken from at least the 4th millennium BC. Later on religions adopted the 5-pointed star, mostly western - Christianity and also neopaganism.

LANDSCAPE STUDY #2: levees of Stockton

LANDSCAPE STUDY #2:
Stockton 12.7.13 at the levees of the Calaveras River
between El Dorado and West Streets




CALAVERAS RIVER in Stockton, CA
Canine tracks by the river bed, fresh after the night's storm. Towering grey cumulus clouds are still warring in the distance now, the following morning. In the silty mud closer to the water are some willows and dogwood and lots of Himalayan blackberry1, the weed with big thorns and sweet August fruit.


Above the river bank at the base of the levees on either side of the Calaveras water channel, occasional plants live on these unpaved and barren hills of oily coating.  Mallows and nightshades, and wild wild squash can survive like lizards in the desert. Tumbleweed2 succeeds, rolls and punctures bicycle tubes with long speeding spires.


NORTHSIDE levee
The postal headquarters for the city, with birds3 in the parking lot's trees. Closer to the river, under the bridge crossing, are the vagrants who brave the night wind in sleeping bags with one-liner jokes, improvising now about the morning cold.


An old walnut orchard is next to the giant paved parking lot, east of the bridge crossing - no doubt a stubborn farmer holding out. Gnarled trunks and twisted branches produce fruit this late in fall, dropped on the ground here on the levee side of fence.


A hundred feet east, the north side levee continues as tall as rooftops. Houses in this tidy neighborhood tract go for just over $100K4 for a 2 or 3 bedroom. The tower of the private university is not far in the distance (with college dreams of doing the right thing but mostly going in debt.)


SOUTHSIDE levee
Domestic cats in a range of wild occupy the zone between the levee and apartment border fences, another barren zone. Chihuahuas and other small dogs rule the other side of fences between garbage cans and garages, and back stairwells of the multi-plex apartments in varying states of decline. A two bedroom goes for $600/month or only $525 if willing to endure the yelling and stomping from upstair's neighbor. Young children can be heard behind the broken and boarded up windows closest to the levee. Young children can be heard from behind the broken and boarded up windows closest to the levee.


Further west there's a gated community, unfinished with leveled lots that lost financing and now are curbs leading nowhere, conduits for utilities rolled up and exposed.  A playground stands unused in center of the vacant lots. Directly east of that is the tennis and swim club, also of tall fences topped with barbed wire and special deals for new members.


Stockton has all the desired mall features and chains including Trader Joes and Target. A community farm is way south of that, and may expand to the unused leveled lots up here near the Calaveras water channel. This city is like Detroit except it went bankrupt sooner, in 2012.


UPSTREAM of levees
Not wild or scenic: contained for many decades, controlled by human development of water channels, dams and levees. This history includes the 1865 short story from Mark Twain "the Jumping Frog of Calaveras County" and Stockton as the nearest port for gold country to the Pacific.


Calaveras is a tributary of the San Joaquin River since 1960 the New Hogan Reservoir caught the Calaveras and other tributaries in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada5 not far from the intersection of the highways 49 and 12 from San Andreas to Angels Camp to Arnold. The earthquake faults run parallel to the dam (preferred to perpendicular.)


DOWNSTREAM of levees
The river flows near old Stockton built in late 1800s like downtown Oakland, with 150 year old Victorian building storefronts6 housing wholesale Chinese markets and old blues bars. The locals make claims that the best chicken in the state can be bought here.


Dodie tells the story about the Central Valley rivers from when she was a kid: before the dams and river channels and levees, back when the great Sacramento River had giant cottonwood trees with vines like jungles they crawled through to get to the riverbank. Yellow-billed magpies everywhere as far as anyone could see.7


Calusa Park is still there and a couple other remnants as wildlife refuges. Dodie says don't go in winter or spring when the mud will be up past the knees, when the water tries to swell on the landscape like wetlands and vernal pools of the past.


Two private waterfront country clubs meet the banks of Calaveras river at the joining to the Stockton Deep Water Channel, next to the minor league baseball stadium and across from the park with an outdoor amphitheater. The Channel then runs out to the San Joaquin-Sacramento Delta through Suisun Bay near Grizzly Bay, past Antioch and Martinez and out to the San Pablo Bay and the golden gate to the ocean.


~~~~~~~~~~~
1Rubus armeniacus (from Caucasus Mts, Eurasia)

2Salsola tragus (Russian thistle) is the tumbleweed everywhere except FL & AK.

3unable to identify the bird species due to the large barbed wire topped fence, the lack of binoculars, and we didn't stop to listen.

4but watch out for loan people in Stockton, some Ponzi schemes since so long so goes the story.

5Hogan is in between Camanche and New Melones reservoirs - over eight others in the foothils around there, many or most built in 1950s and 60s. The 1930s is when the dams started on a grand scale, with the Army Corps of Engineers and the WPA too.

6Pre-gentrified unlike SF's Fillmore District with upscale soul food and Asian noodle houses most no one can afford.

7Yellow billed magpies (Pica nuttalli) are endemic to California's Central Valley.

LANDSCAPE STUDY #1: Lake Merritt and the old blue gum

LANDSCAPE STUDY #1
downed tree in Oakland, Lake Merritt, November 2013




photo credit:
Wendy Snyder 11.25.13


the old blue gum


In Oakland by the lake a 137-year* eucalyptus tree blew over during the high wind advisory several Thursdays ago. See photo attached of 12-year child posing near the root structure. A dozen kids and several adults are jumping and playing on the large trunk and tangled branches.


Fifty feet from the eucalyptus tree, at dusk on the lake, floating among tules and cattails, the ducks have their heads under wings, sleeping. Tall herons and egrets are still fishing with their supreme elegance.  Silent rowers have night lights and boats gliding over glazed water.


Opposite the downed tree across the lake is an Ethiopian cafe restaurant. Walk in and order the organic vegetable platter to share with a friend. Pinch injera and lentils, swallow ancient spices that have the power to transform like gods. Talk of trances and trace back to discover the thick shedding bark on the body of somatics and how death weaves through the story.


The old blue gum blew over and died November 14, 2013. One hundred and twenty feet tall and 92,000 lbs.* Some cried others breathed a sigh full of eucalyptus fire memories,1991, an autumn day of Diablo winds and 1000s of homes gone.


The old blue gum blew over and died, uprooted in a windstorm. Oaklanders make new paths, climb over the slippery trunk, take photos at the root of it all. No regard for liability, government, or playground regulations they meet at the fallen tree. One man reads. Another talks on the phone. Both recline on branches while a family plays tag, laughing.

~~~~~~~
This poem was written in collaboration with Wendy Snyder, my friend since we were kids in 1975(!) This poem is dedicated to the twenty people each year who die in California from falling eucalyptus branches, along with the eighteen people total who have died in the past 100 years total from great white shark attacks, as told by senior curator of natural sciences at the Oakland Museum of California, Douglas Long.

* see article: Fallen tree equals fun in Oakland, by Matthew Artz for the Oakland Tribune POSTED: 11/29/2013 04:32:25 PM PST