The past four weeks we have received 4.3 in. of rain. The river through town remains muddy, turbulent as it moves logs and rocks downstream and builds islands upstream . . . well above mean flow. We have had a high of 82˚F and a low of 36˚F. The cottonwood bloomed with the later second cresting of the river, sending their duff over the trails, and the hills are green.
On my run last week I came upon a recently fallen hawk. Still warm and breathing I carried it off the trail and laid it in a bed of grasses. I stopped and sat with it . . . then carefully folded its wings and left it to die in quiet, undisturbed I guess. Suddenly it opened its eyes, large yellow eyes and looked at me, opened its talons. I placed some flowers over it and said a prayer, the hawk had more lifetime left, cut short by a power line. But, not unlike Jefffers hawk, was asking my help to die off the trail, in peace and solitude.
The broken pillar of the wing jags from the clotted shoulder,
The wing trails like a banner in defeat,
No more to use the sky forever but live with famine
And pain a few days: cat nor coyote
Will shorten the week of waiting for death, there is game without talons.
He stands under the oak-bush and waits
The lame feet of salvation; at night he remembers freedom
And flies in a dream, the dawns ruin it.
He is strong and pain is worse to the strong, incapacity is worse.
The curs of the day come and torment him
At distance, no one but death the redeemer will humble that head,
The intrepid readiness, the terrible eyes.
The wild God of the world is sometimes merciful to those
That ask mercy, not often to the arrogant.
You do not know him, you communal people, or you have forgotten him;
Intemperate and savage, the hawk remembers him;
Beautiful and wild, the hawks, and men that are dying, remember him.
I'd sooner, except the penalties, kill a man than a hawk;
but the great redtail
Had nothing left but unable misery
From the bone too shattered for mending, the wing that trailed under his talons when he moved.
We had fed him six weeks, I gave him freedom,
He wandered over the foreland hill and returned in the evening, asking for death,
Not like a beggar, still eyed with the old
I gave him the lead gift in the twilight.
What fell was relaxed, Owl-downy, soft feminine feathers; but what
Soared: the fierce rush: the night-herons by the flooded river cried fear at its rising
Before it was quite unsheathed from reality.
Robinson Jeffers | The Collected Poetry of Robinson Jeffers: Poetry 1903-1920, Prose, and Unpublished Writings
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming ‘Wow! What a ride!’”
Hunter S. Thompson
“This is the first, wildest, and wisest thing I know, that the soul exists and that it is built entirely out of attentiveness.”
Meena the Cat and Judith in Together Time
‘A Message For the Human Tribe’ . . . The Bulletin Board in the Alleyway at toMake™
The arrogance of space : “Copenhagenize analysed a section of Hans Christian Andersen Boulevard to show how much space was given over to motor vehicles (red), compared with bikes (blue), pedestrians (yellow) and buses (green). Across the city bikes are used for 62% of commutes; yet get 7% of space. Cars are used for 9% of commutes; yet get 54% of space”
A short history of traffic engineering : “In many cities around the world, car drivers are prioritized over people on foot, on bikes or on public transport, argues Colville-Andersen”
What’s likely to give you a head injury?
“Photography, as we all know, is not real at all. It is an illusion of reality with which we create our private world”
“Derby Street II : Water Beneath” Edition of E.V. 1/12 - 12/12.
“I have to connect things in the world in a different way”
Anselm Kiefer | answering the question: “Why are you an artist?”
"Being creative is not so much the desire to do something as the listening to that which wants to be done: the dictation of materials."