"ecologist" poems
The noisy clothes dryer has made me fall back in love with the quiet
Now even the hum of the air conditioner is painfully noticeable
And the ticking of the analog clocks scratch at my brain until I retreat somewhere anywhere else
There are ants on my bathroom floor but I try not to notice them
They don’t bug me all that much and I don’t really want to see them killed
Maybe it’s the wilderness reclaiming my lower middle class suburban home
I’m getting better at walking in the woods with my headphones off
While the words of some green anarchist or social ecologist compliment well with the feeling of dirt and branches beneath my boots
Sometimes it’s nice to hear the birds or the footsteps of some unknown animal at other side of this wall of brush and bushes
There are many days now where I want to escape from the modern world
Maybe if only for a little while
In countless poems past I threaten cabins in the woods
I threaten retreat from society
I threaten quote “primitive” technology
I threaten an escape I’m afraid to make
And often I’m afraid to say all this
For fear of being compared to Ted Kaczynski
So for now I’ll just search for the quiet
Far from everyday life
And then...
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 10:32 PM UTC
I wish I could think of
the right way to say
I love you...
It's like there's no possibility.
My vocabulary is far too limited
The love I feel is far too complex
And I am far too unimaginative
to give you something that hasn't been
Said a million times.
you would certainly find a way -
youve always been fantastic at words
and i wish i could borrow
some of your genius...
Every combination
Every language
Every time I try
I can't figure it out
You have made me feel like...
Like the solar system revolves around me
Like death could never take my life
Like I know the Name of the wind
... no ... i can do better
i want to keep trying
i need to keep trying because
if i cant figure it out
im going to implode
You deserve a special
I love you.
something to mimic the special
you make me feel every day
i yearn to give you that
so bear with me while i paint you
a written picture instead and
hope it can convey some semblance of
i love you:
------------------------------------------------------------
You are a city.
And that city, in my head,
Looks a little like... well
it's under constant construction, the
scaffolding where you expand
the buildings - your knowledge.
and despite what you might think
it's a comforting presence
between them run roads, so many intersections
all leading to different interests
but those streets have potholes - your past
experiences - and there isn't enough tar in the world to fill them.
not that it matters, because your traffic never stops and the
streets are never still; potholes and all
zipping around on those roads are cars
that get you from point A to point B - your responsibilities,
when you really need to stop for gas. it's admirable
how dedicated to those pit stops you are, and
that you still really love driving
fortunately, despite pollution - the toxicity dumped
by other people - your city is still eco-friendly. you wanted
fresh air, so on each building you install solar panels - you
never sit back and let people ruin the world
so people sit on their porches and listen to music you pipe
through the city streets, via loudspeakers you installed
because you want people to enjoy themselves - and they
absolutely love it. they show their appreciation through
smiles and laughter. how could they not? nothing can compare
In your city
I want to be a window washer
a maintenance woman
a taxi driver
a gas station attendee
an ecologist
a musician
I want to be someone involved with all you are.
You're a constant inspiration
So call me selfish, but I relish just being around you
And lavish that I get to be special to you
You deserve more than these simple three words
but for the sake of concision - your favorite, I know -
I'll simply say
I love you
Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 12:44 AM UTC
At 28 years I have become more self-interested
than I have been for two decades.
I am exploring all the granite holds my mind can grip,
all the ways my heart can cleave,
what fits into my body, the feeling of entry and exit,
how invasion stings and where I build my walls,
what quiets my horses and what scatters them galloping.
I used to look outside all the time like a periscope,
but now my navel fascinates me.
For so long it didn’t really matter who I was.
I simply was. I did. I perceived. I acted. I reacted.
The world needed my discovery. I yearned to stomp
all over its trails recording my findings.
Now I am ecologist frantically cataloguing the behaviors,
daily rituals, feeding and mating practices
of the only one of my species. Now it feels paramount
to carve out the hollow where I shall nest,
to place a sign for others, and a pair of binoculars
and a guidebook: “The Wild Me.”
Aug 2, 2019
Aug 2, 2019 at 7:49 PM UTC
Good News Day
Yesterday and it was a long day I’ve edited poems written
15 years ago, spelling tends to let me down, but slowly I get the hang of it
Back from the ecologist, I'm cancer free and that is great.
I had hoped we could eat out, but my wife is frying filets of fish
that has been breaded and look like schnitzel no matter what you with fish
I still don't like it, perhaps canned tunny.
But truth be told – always? - I have to do the dishes when dining at home
the only good thing with hand wash the dishes is clean fingernails.
My mother had so much dirt under hers, it was possible to plant cabbage,
but not deep enough for potatoes; it is fair it was mostly tobacco as she
hand rolled her cigarettes; I tried to but got nicotine fingers it looked
like I had my left hand permanently stuck up my ***
For the sake of the good news, I will not carp eat the fish and be glad.
Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 9:43 AM UTC