two poems for Thanksgiving narratology
[narratology = dealing in story (sorry)]
this Thanksgiving
(mutuality)
say
find something to be thankful for
still here
a body
with a spirit inside
a mind
if the high point of that arc
was a long time ago
and everything’s been gradual
since
then
the bandage from last blood test
fell off
somewhere
hopefully not
to create a gross moment for someone
for me
the continuation of a series
gross
if bloody
that began with the first heart attack
or with
fall off the sofa when I was
four or so
and
there was a pool on the hardwood floor
that I could see
this is the past
highlights
or
lowlights
and how do you remember things
your own time
with time
nature
others
your own inventions on your own
and when dealing in
perception based on how others
treated you
that part of the play
when
Eliza says she is a duchess
because Pickering treats him
that way
and
there is
how we treat ourselves
now add the theme of thanks
for the day
Pygmalion/My Fair Lady (cited)
starspeak
and where is God in this
and sad
if not tragic
to
have to ask
maybe it’s because there are no easy
answers on the planet
except the gift
of
itself
in the cosmos
either
except to look with whatever combination
of our senses
to wonder
to measure
too
if there are no numbers for the wonder
we say
in certain liturgies
that
a star is coming
though they’re not supposed to be
loosed from their places
there’s that
wonder
the exercise to call it something else
by which it’s easier
or
to admit there is no knowing
and so let it unbound
unidentify its place
except it flies
and
also famously arrives
with a doctrinal purpose
but that we also leave it
simply as
astounding
also passage in an
extraordinary
narrative
that might beg belief
while
not insisting on its truth
on
what it represents
like the fictive guess
in “The Sentinel”
in which
Arthur Clarke invents a dying star
with
sentient civilization ‘round it
its last explosion
seen over the skies by
magi
of western Asia
and we could write our stories
too
as well as listen to what’s
set
and shared each season though off-season
makes your guesses
takes your chances
give
other versions a chance
allow imagination
serving
as an ironic stretching as a building-up
of credibility
“The Sentinel” is a short story by Arthur C. Clarke. The story is said to be the inspiration for his and Stanley Kubrick’s 2001. (Clarke having written that novel for and from the film.)
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Happy Thanksgiving! which should be a day of thanks for all, everywhere—or of hope for such with those in unthanking situations. (Sorry, need to bring up both.)
hap
(valueless until we add value)
what shall I say
it’s Wednesday of
the arc
day before a holiday in
this case
USA Thanksgiving
when we observe and also
ignore
the colonial experience
we celebrate
the Indians
misnamed
who kept the settlers alive
so
they could lose their land
and lives
push their identities to arid
places out west until
mineral wealth
pushed
them farther
fish to fertilize
corn a gift from the Americas
with
turkey
and pumpkins
and may I go back to say a word
in favor
of popcorn
boon to so many
watching
movies
black and white
the natives were in color
two groups as there must be
two groups
not
one nation-tribe
and yet they came together
hunger
and fear
righteousness
after
survival
and we have so many
mores now
to practice
they are idle
parades
in which practitioners aren’t
idle
football games for distraction
snacks
and later tryptophan
and
maybe
snacked and
drugged
the day will go easy
on gathered
drama
perturbations
and
then to plan
any adventures for tomorrow
when
we might rush the stores
predawn
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photo by The Cleveland Museum of Art on Unsplash—A Rooster and Turkey Fighting c. 1680 Melchior de Hondecoeter (Dutch, 1636–1695) Netherlands Oil on canvas John L. Severance Fund 1986.59 https://www.clevelandart.org/art/1986.59
pale gray without lines
no deep curves and shadow-play
I’d rather rainclouds
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photo by Giang Nguyen on Unsplash
on the elevens day
Veterans Day
the sale
yet we secure the sales
and
all the ordinary things
of home
and there are more and better
the people
those
we’re related to
our friends
all those we knew and didn’t know
whom we were fighting for
and we’re not whole or pretty
when we’re fighting
in our
fractured ways
by orders
and we give
as much as there is
and
if we’re here then we know others
who gave it all
by service
home
then
and somewhere else at war
which is the current privilege
of nation
democracy the great experiment
and thank you
thank you so much
for
giving of the gifts
of mind and heart
and skill
and should it go that way
in war
of blood
of bone
of talent
of however goes the willingness
to serve
which we count positive
so positive
not
by perfection
but by extraordinary exertion
on the field
in the arid
dusty streets
by the rinsing ocean
in depths
in heights
and on the even line
that horizons out
to Earth
and finally
to home
for all the steady service
and the sacrificing
maybe
it seemed ordinary
too
and yet is remarkable
in serving the great experiment
democracy
and peace behind the front
out of the trench
also
behind base fences
a presence and an action
which bring temporal peace
until
we all have eternal
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photograph by Jake Weirick at Unsplash
Kristallnacht
(9 November ’38)
how pretty it all sounds
crystal
and night and such
yet
was a horror
too much enthusiastically destroyed
avowed violence
by fractured minds
and
government
encouraging blood-letting
and
who swept up
everything of broken
bone-
sharpened fragments
after
who tried to repair and so
live on
if under a mass of hate like iron cloud
that any moment
crash
with written on it
a night of broken glass and hearts
could
happen again
and by depravity
worse follow
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photo by Harlie Raethel on Unsplash
evergreen out back
safely burns the red out front
briefly with all fire
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photo by Sean Foster at Unsplash
the photograph
let’s go to Narnia
for
there’s
a lantern among trees
so
we may flee the White Queen
then safely to meet Aslan
thus
to stand
with the lion
against an evil force
and then wake up
I guess
but
my
what a thrilling day
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photo [prompt] by John Murphey on Unsplash
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis
(while drafting haiku, which I’m trying as my Saturday work to do, I encountered this photograph that became its own prompt with me of something else by way of association and form
in other words, I was working on one thing then inspired toward another
so maybe a Sunday haiku, knowing the haiku discipline is only for myself without any expectation from the world
that happens, doesn’t it?)
a billion's one
cheering up
I’m watching Santa claim that
and then provide
for the children in a town
a neighborhood
where
it’s easy for children to go unnoticed
when grownup heads are set
too high
and there things like gentrifying that
compete with
cheer
and children
until now homegrown
and so problems
and solutions applied
locally
where all ages have lived
and want
to live
and if we say
thee is a holiday spirit
and an intention
for one day
and if
we
mimic
starting in October if
not August
might we not consider genuine
which might sound saccharine
to say
except in addition to old
neighborhoods
to
venerate
there are atrocities to consider
everywhere
have
you read about the killings in Sudan
or
do you know in the USA
how many will go
hungry
tonight
meaning to question whether
nuclears or
profiteering generally
is
all to count worth while
or is each one
viable
not as a cardboard target but
as really what
we’re made
of
we hear of hundreds
that are killed by
nature or
by us
and the tolls go into recent thousands
and by the end of term easily
a million
tracking COVID
say
unless you conveniently misbelieve
do you know how many
are in
needs
try
one
it’s one
all the billions make up one
that we can
know
and be
and help with practicality
and love
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photo by Efe Yağız Soysal on Unsplash
I look at this and see a big red hat (trimmed white) that’s shaking out snowflakes through a winter sky, while it’s more practically an overhead (drone?) image of a place along a coast in Türkiye. (Me not the photographer talking.)
southern exposure
now it’s Tuesday
out back
the red looks brown
near-
winter brown
already
though the red out front
more fiery
by sunlight pouring through
the backs and
fronts of leaves
so
maybe it’s a matter
only of shadows
only
of daytime hours
and if the light could shine out back
there would
be fire art
out there
as well
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photo by Klim Musalimov on Unsplash
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