My home was at Cold Mountain from the start, Rambling among the hills, far from trouble.
Gone, and a million things leave no trace loose, and it flows through the galaxies A fountain of light, into the very mind — Not a thing, and yet it appears before me: Now I know the pearl of the Buddha-nature Know its use: a boundless perfect sphere.
“Thinking about a poem I’ll never write. With gut on wood and hide, and plucking thumb, Grope and stutter for the words, invent a tune, In any tongue, this moment one time true Be wine or blood or rhythm drives it through — A leap of words to things and there it stops. Creating empty caves and tools in shops And holy domes, and nothing you can name; The long old chorus blowing underfoot Makes high wild notes of mountains in the sea. O Muse, a goddess gone astray Who warms the cow and makes the wise man sane, (&even madness gobbles demons down) Then dance through jewelled trees & lotus crowns For Narihira’s lover, the crying plover, For babies grown and childhood homes And moving, moving, on through scenes and towns Weep for the crowds of men Like birds gone south forever. The long-lost hawk of Yakamochi and Thoreau Flits over yonder hill, the hand is bare, The noise of living families fills the air.”
Bear Canyon Creek, Santa Catalina Mountains — Images by kenne
RIPRAP
Lay down these words Before your mind like rocks. place solid, by hands In choice of place, set Before the body of the mind in space and time: Solidity of bark, leaf, or wall riprap of things: Cobble of milky way, straying planets These poems, people, lost ponies with Dragging saddles and rocky sure-foot trails. The worlds like endless four-dimensional Game of Go. ants and pebbles in the thin loam, each rock a word a creek-washed stone Granite: ingrained with torment of fire and weight Crystal and sediment linked hot all change, in thoughts, As well as things.
— Gary Snyder
Gary Snyder at the University of Arizona Poetry Center, 2010
Artist Along Sabino Creek In Sabino Canyon, April, 2011 — Image by kenne
Water
Pressure of sun on the rockslide Whirled me in dizzy hop-and-step descent, Pool of pebbles buzzed in a Juniper shadow, Tiny tongue of a this-year rattlesnake flicked, I leaped, laughing for little boulder-color coil– Pounded by heat raced down the slabs to the creek Deep tumbling under arching walls and stuck Whole head and shoulders in the water: Stretched full on cobble–ears roaring Eyes open aching from the cold and faced a trout.
The poem originally appeared Riprap, which was Snyder’s first book of poetry. For Snyder, nature as divine, which goes hand-in-hand with the biocentric nature of his Buddhist beliefs.
The following poem was part of a blog entry a year ago October on poet Gary Snyder’s reading at the University of Arizona Poetry Center. The posting included my poem, Hawks Circle” with the above photo. Now a year later, much has evolved in my understanding of the natural world around us. For starters, I now know the big birds soring above are not hawks, but turkey vultures. Still, I have, and will continue to show my ignorance as I seek to increase my knowledge of nature.
Hawks Circle
People want to know,
Why Tucson?
With so many roots tied
to the star,
deep and connected,
why turn a back
To comfort?
To convince?
To culture?
Reasons abound
answers diverse,
yet similar.
Some old,
some recently learned.
More often than not
my answer is earthy,
yet ethereal.
Of another world,
yet of one world.
Answers giving birth
as hawks circle
riding the currents
above the foothills
gawking the ground
providing a Gary Snyder image
clear of mind
having no meaning, “but that
which sees is truly seen.”
— kenne
. . . followed by:
Behind is a forest that goes to the Arctic And a desert that still belongs to the Piute And here we must draw Our line.
As the crickets’ soft autumn hum is to us so are we to the trees as are they to the rocks and the hills.
— Gary Synder
(from “Front Lines/As The Crickets’ Soft Autumn Hum)
The year 2010 has been a hectic and healthy year for us, giving us so much to look back on. Much of what has come to past was not have been posted on this blog, yet it contains more entries than any previous year and more views, up 2,500 over the previous high of last year — all this in a year where Facebook has eaten into my social media time. Here’s a highlight of 2010:
Attended the memorial services for Kitty Davis, wife of Society of the 5th Cave member, Ken.
Attended the memorial services for blues friend, Charley Parker
Attended the International Blues Festival in Memphis
Videoed & photographed Mean Gene Kelton at Westfield By The Railroad
Visited Tucson in February looking at homes
Ran a 5k in the Muddy Trails Bash in The Woodlands
Poet Ed Hirsch presented at The Writers In Performance Series
Ken & Mary’s Blues Project “Spring Fling”
Annual Walt Whitman Birthday Celebration
Purchase house in Tucson
Ran a 5k in the Sprint for Life in the Medical Center
Ken Harris Retirement Party
Sale home in The Woodlands
Sonny Boy Terry & John McVey at Ken & Mary’s Blues Project
Move to Tucson
Jeri, Jody, and Virginia visit us in Tucson
See Band of Heathens at Club Hotel Congress
Visit Sonoita Vineyards
Sunday Night Jazz at The Old Pueblo Grille
BB King at Desert Diamond Casino
Cyndi Lauper at Del Sol Casino
Attend the Bisbee Blues Festival
Joy got her Real Estate license for Arizona
Poet Gary Snyder at The Poetry Center
James and Jill visit us in Tucson
DeGrazia Gallery In the Sun
Tanuri Ridge Fall 2010 Party
Joy will be selling homes through Coldwell Banker in Tucson
Tucson Jazz Institute – Jazz Under the Stars
Ron Saikowski visits with us in Tucson
Thanksgiving in Southern California
Tamal & Heritage Festival
El Tour de Tucson
4th Avenue Winter Street Fair
Attend Matt’s graduation in Fort Collins
Visit Houston over the Holidays (Starting next week.)
This blog has allowed me to maintain a journal, something I always wanted to do but never happened. It is my desire to continue to grow in the creative spirit in 2011, this time next year, sharing another “becoming” year in review. As I may have said before, I feel that I was born to blog. I love creating things to share and providing links to other creative people.
WordPress is considered the best blogging platform and is very friendly for the viewer. Here are a few things to consider that may make your visit to this blog more pleasurable: You can subscribe to it (See left column.); view an individual posting by clicking on the title; view previous or next posting by clicking on the titles located before the comments section of each posting; or you can scroll down a continuous flow of postings by double-clicking on the page header anytime. And remember, a list of recent posts is always maintained in the left column. Enjoy your visit, and I hope you continue to come back. And as always, your comments are most welcomed.
Seated in the back, while others stand checking the view. Outside retractable walls, in choice of place, we gathered as, “Largest crowd in recent memory!” repeated through the Poetry Center. Staging a Zen evening, six persimmons a backdrop for laying down the words, Gary Snyder shared anecdotal memories of friendship. Fifty years since Robert Frost read at the Ruth Stephan Poetry Cottage dedication, fifty years out, Snyder reminisced about friend, writer, and philanthropist, Ruth Stephan.
“Poetry is the food of the spirit, and spirit is the instigator of all revolutions, whether political or personal, whether national, world-wide, within the life of a single quiet human being. “
People want to know,
Why Tucson?
With so many roots tied
to the star,
deep and connected,
why turn a back
To comfort?
To convince?
To culture?
Reasons abound
answers diverse,
yet similar.
Some old,
some recently learned.
More often than not
my answer is earthy,
yet ethereal.
Of another world,
yet of one world.
Answers giving birth
as hawks circle
riding the currents
above the foothills
gawking the ground
providing a Gary Snyder image
clear of mind
having no meaning, “but that
which sees is truly seen.”
— kenne
One of my favorite poets, Gary Snyder will be reading at the University of Arizona Poetry Center, October 7th. Lawrence Ferlinghetti has called Snyder, “the Thoreau of the Beat Generation.” He is a political, cultural, and environmental activist with superb writing skills, which allow him to effectively connect with the reader and listener in a very basic way. Here’s an example:
The shack and a few trees
float in the blowing fog
I pull out your blouse,
warm my cold hands
on your breasts.
you laugh and shudder
peeling garlic by the
hot iron stove.
bring in the axe, the rake,
the wood
we’ll lean on the wall
against each other
stew simmering on the fire
as it grows dark
drinking wine.
Japanese Garden — Computer Painting by kenne
