fieldnotes 11.1.16

Maelstrom

Oh watch! —

how we preach patience without practice.
Such a hard-heeled turn takes time —

a moon —
a season —
a tide —

and still your boat might end in their reach.

But if you can endure long enough,
you might find the sirens possessed
of more voices than you’d imagined.

Go ahead.
Be afraid.
Be monstrous!

Don’t ever forget the depths from which those musics are made.

And if you can withstand their embrace,
maybe in time,
before it passes on ahead,
you earn it —
this gift of learning love’s subtlety.


11.1.16
(75/60)

warm! sunny and warm! ‘here just a while’ what a blessing of a day. a sundog at the heart of a cloud shaped like a swallow in flight. oak leaves catching the light like whiskey and red wine. the moon’s just turned and I guess so will we. A butterfly. orange sulphur. 2 blue herons. blue-winged teals. and geese of course. and I wonder, did i get tumbled down the well to force the siren song? but I feel the shift. gods. gonna have to tie my flannel ’round my waist. keep an eye out for snakes. flock of blackbirds by the cattails.
maybe sweet takes the edge of regret’s bitter in time?
another sulphur. and another, lighter one. I hear a bluebird just as I hear…
such things must be meant. no devilish work.
the birds are quiet. lullaby cadence of still-singing bugs. the end of the end of the song. sweet in decline.
investigate doorways, and the magic thereof. the gods of. all their Superstitions. the holy threshold.
coyotes howling at sirens. another sulphur. frog singing. another sulphur. ‘…and the darkness still has work to do.’ And I’m not so dull as to not understand how much easier it just became. to right the ship. and what that means. All the repercussive thoughts that go along with that.
How it is still impossible.
How we wreck and end at different depths.
And another sulphur could pass for a yellow leaf fallen. scare a bunch of frogs at the pond. how many kinds of water walkers are there? geese come in by their hundreds — jubilant or keening? About a dozen pelicans still on the water.

Notes:
Quote 1: (a while): Beth Orton / ‘Pass In Time’ from Central Reservation (1999)
Quote 2: (darkness): Peter Gabriel / ‘Blood of Eden’ from Us (1992)


about fieldnotes

fieldnotes was written at the Marsh beginning Sept. 26, 2016 and ending near the same time in the following year, collected in memo books over the course of many rambling walks.
Beginning on Sept. 26, 2019, three years after the writing, fieldnotes will be published in its entirety, with posts appearing as the corresponding write-dates occur.
(at least to the best of my ability)

Author: Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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