넷 : mythopoeia of the stream

the final section of iv haibun. you can no doubt find the other’s in the recent posts section. thanks for all the comments & likes.

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넷 : mythopoeia of the stream

i continued on a man-made gravel path / uncertain of its purpose / it wasn’t a hiking trail / snaking through the mountains as it did like a dollar sign /

tanned soil
thirsty bare
piles of pillaged pine

warmed in sun noon to dusk / belching fragrance like a dying man’s last words / it was clear / the man-made intention of the lumber road / off-white stained ochre / aptly fitted the motif of my stomp / i mistook squawking F15s for falcon silhouettes / engines like a snippet of a waterfall / the peace disrupted with their rupturing of speed then fading like a singing bowl
/ i pictured mythopoeic village kids / faded cartoons on their t-shirts / dirty foreheads / battered sandals / skinny arms & legs / bored sighs / scuffed dust / adventure in their heads / annunciated in gestures of hop & fidget / trading myths & sources regarding the mission of the F15s / as i mythologized the environment when i was young & sometimes still do / the White Lady who haunted the woods / the teacher whose daughter hit him with a shovel / the conspiracy of the motor bikers & their pellet guns / the den of the older boys / those kids don’t need to hear the dull truth told just yet : that R.O.K & U.S forces were doing annual military drills / monitoring / it is so easy to apprehend imagination & myth there

: everything
so unashamedly
real

fidgety coal tits wurzelled in funny accents somewhere in the spear heads of pine / listening close for the whereabouts of their nonsensical twittering i spotted mistletoe clung to persimmon / god-head’s nest in miniature / i am always pleased to spot mistletoe / the face of god for any trouble caused / reminds me of an apothegm my parents use

: where you make
your bed / lay down
your head is home

an airborne wanderer / no origin / no place to call its own / seldom grows in colonies / difficult to cultivate / hard to control / latches to any host it chances on & germinates / borrowing all vital nutrients / at the mercy of chance / the routes of birds / some judge it parasitic / a pest to elegance / sound like anything else? however / its medical potential is well documented : an enemy to cancer cells once dried

& brews
into a tasty tea
: woody odour

i paused / cleaned sweat from my stinging eyes & swigged stream water i bottled & noted something of importance : i could not write like this / pausing to scribble notes & remedy the itch to plot acts & observations i leave myself open to / if i have a companion / i become too involved in them / bending to what is rightly theirs : my undivided attention / people deserve fixation / to be studied / this is a personal characteristic i don’t think anybody knows about & will be as surprised as i was to discover / i get no essential joy from myself / i manage the completion of selfish endeavours / busy myself / distract / with transmutations of life into poem / a versed life / pushed far enough ahead so as i feel infinite now / like the hunter gatherers who printed hands on cave walls in Argentina / this poetry lark is the final method i have left to me

& i
am mad
with the task.

if a friend / any companion at all was there / beside the stream water glittering with the sun’s bronze coins / its wishes / where everything pushed & pulled but nothing moved or stirred but i / or too on that artificial mountain path / you wouldn’t read this anecdotal poem / exercise in the emotion of place / it would have been a fleet thought quietly forgotten

a fallen branch
a bump
on my way

8 Comments Add yours

  1. Did you take the picture? If so, it is amazing but that road looks a little intimidating. I wouldn’t drive on that unless I had to.

    Good poem, and I like the ” a fallen branch…” ending especially, reminds me of the rhythm of the end lyrics of A Sleepy Lagoon (“a tropical moon, a sleepy lagoon and you”).

    A very crisp ending!

    1. i took the road pic. the whole idea was image stumbling over themselves, a motif that gets recycled into different contexts. thank you as ever for the insightful comments.

      1. You’re welcome. your poems are always delightful to read. The picture is certainly relevant and well taken, its just when I look at the soft dirt sides and the steep valley, I keep thinking what if a heavy duty car comes from another direction and your car’s on the side of the cliff and you have to both pass, that would be some pretty tense maneuvering.

      2. well fortunately i don’t drive so i was on foot so you need not be worried. i walk everywhere & anywhere.

      3. Walking is good, I also walk whenever I can. A stroll makes me feel refreshed. I only enjoy driving when I’m the only one on the road, since that rarely happens, I find it stressful.

  2. Such great writing. Very inspiring!

    1. as always, thank you. couldn’t have been done without you jogging my memory with your haibun mention.

      1. You have the gift for this kind of writing. VERY few do. Keep on teaching us with your thoughts! 🙂

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