fieldnotes 3.28-29.17

Crash

Some were drawn by moon,
some by stars.
And maybe you followed the same path
of creative destruction,
the parasitic sort.

I lost half of my true name.
And you edged,
careful,
into that lost landscape and set up camp.

We push our fingers into the dirt and find them,
bone by bone,
diamond polished,
taut-stringed,
the dancer at the end.
And I danced ’til I could stand
and stumble on Alone.

Wind to lung,
rain to vein.

Meticulous and patient,
fingers dance to knotted words,
running them smooth again.
Old, well-built engines
sputter but start and settle,
an unheard hum.

And,
slipshod as we are,
renovated and repaired
with found or recovered objects,
the moon still pulls its salt through us —
a tightening circle of waves,
which must eventually crash us over
or pull us under.



3.28.17

(50/36)

coopers hawk. robins and redwings of course. chilly. feels like it should today. tree swallows on the boxes. chorus frogs. juncos. kingbirds. song sparrow. fox sparrow. cardinals. turkey vulture. song sparrows everywhere. tiniest patch of blue in gray sky. chickadees of course. flock of canada geese. redtailed hawk. pair of bluebirds on the sumac. kingbird again. flock of sparrows. golden crowned kinglet. mourning dove. kestrel! mallards. more kinglets. paid of redbellies.


3.29.17

(47/35)

no binos today because it is threatening rain. redwings and robins. earthworms everywhere. and the river looks high. fox sparrows. noisy noisy birds. oh! white egret! swallows in large numbers now. horned grebes again. cardinal. frustrating day to be without binos. lots of water birds. swallows. shovelers. someone left a bone here. a leg of something. bluebirds. geese. grebes. blue-winged teals. little flock of white-crowned sparrows. something new I can hear but can’t see. fox sparrow. blue heron. kestrel. song sparrow. robin. fox sparrow again. American pipit. cedar waxwings. bluebirds.
11:11 ‘set out for the distant sky’

Notes:
Quote 1: (set out): Nick Cave + Bad Seeds / ‘Distant Sky’ from Skeleton Tree (2016)


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'm busy trying to remember not to be busy

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