unsound expectation

 

from this week in 2005. (I was 61)

 

 

         unsound expectation

I had expected the sounds from all below

to settle into the comfortable hum

within the sonic universality of aum

I’ve been accustomed to this perception

in the heightened awareness stimulated

by focused intent on the physical climb

But yesterday there was an unfamiliar whine

above the drone and apart from it

It was less plaintive than the squeals

of freeway semis shriller than train wheels

fighting against the curving rails

a sound distinct from historic wails

of horror beyond humanity

that humanity so often creates

I know this subtlety relates

as all sounds from the common source

I just did not expect it in this state

I underestimated us of course

Ballad of Johnny Mesabi cont.

 

July 21

 

…more from the continuing

Ballad of Johnny Mesabi*

 

On the path of least resistance

Smooth downhill takes less persistence

Johnny soon knew his life’s station

Was to be one of pre-occupation

 

Johnny Mesabi stayed out of his war

Began to knock on perception’s door

Giggled in 3-D saw the bones of his wrist

Tumble into place as he gave it a twist

 

Johnny Mesabi hard alloy of iron

Forged in that cold steel environ

A skillfully crafted durable tool

Educated to shape a facet of our jewel

 

Inefficiently he read really good books

(How appetizing really good food looks)

Devised lessons in creative exploration

Tasty dishes of linguistic sensation

 

a series from journals 2001-2005

 

Ballad of Johnny Mesabi

 

July 20

 

…from the continuing

Ballad of Johnny Mesabi*

 

Johnny Mesabi child of ice

If he liked it once he did it twice

Knew if he exhaled he’d soon be old

Johnny Mesabi sucked in the cold

 

In the winter ya paid and paid hard

For summer escapes out of the yard

Deep in his head he always knew

Jumpin’ the fence’s the only thing to do

 

Blue lake pinewoods skate around the rink

Hollywood premier stars in mink

Back to the ore dump for a keg of beer

And on to Berkeley to tap a mystic seer

 

Johnny Mesabi was raised on The Range

Left twice to avoid being strange

When you leave people warn ya

“You’ll never stay in California”

 

But leave often enough and you will

Johnny did and he’s livin’ there still

You gotta settle where you feel strong

Then you can stay where you belong

 

Johnny Mesabi headed for the freeway

The Golden State gives ya the leeway

Disney Yosemite summer of love

Where the hawk flies the same sky’s the dove

 

Johnny engaged in the politics of hair

Taught in suburbs but couldn’t buy there

Started a family with less skill than luck

Planted rhymes so he wouldn’t get stuck

 

*a series from journals 2001-2005

Wild Wing Plantation, The Falcon course

 

from this week in 2005 (I was 60)

 

                  Wild Wing Plantation, The Falcon course

    The front nine is okay, some repetitive, back and forth holes in seemingly typical Rees Jones style.  Fairway bunkers in series on either side and sometimes in progression from one side of the fairway to the other.  One trap leads to another if you’re not out cleanly.  The course was in very good shape considering last night's warm rain that dissipated during our first three holes.  My game also had a dreary start.

          Don Brown’s witty chatter in an Irish brogue (as real as magic) and the diminished showers, brightened my demeanor and put me into the game.  Clouds parted to blue skies after the third hole.  The back nine had interesting mounding that created a stadium effect on a number of holes.  The course also moved through some scenic wooded areas of pine in a nice atmosphere of seclusion.

         We rode up to the 18^th tee box to see four large birds perched near the markers.  At first I thought they were statue replicas; the four courses here are named for birds.  But, here there was a falcon (or large hawk) and three turkey vultures.  Soon we realized the hawk had a squirrel pinned to the ground.  The vultures were looking for an opportunity.  They held still until we stepped from the carts.  Then the hawk flew off with the squirrel dangling from its talons.  It evaded the vultures maneuvering through the pines far off into the distance.  This round of golf instantly moved into the realm of the memorable.

Lt. Gen. James Mattis

 

February 4, 2005  (I was 60)

 

         Lt. Gen. James Mattis

     (I saw the news today, Oh boy)

 

We hire a mentality of insensibility

so a group of us feels it should laugh

when he says, “I like killing some people.”

And further, “I admit it; I just like to fight.”

He does not pretend it is for a cause,

we use him for our purpose,

he signs on for his.

He comes cheap but thinks he’s well paid.

We are agents of change.

We don’t even wash our hands.

It’s a cautious laugh

but some applaud when he adds,

“You know guys like that,”

(referring to Muslims)

“aint got no manhood left anyway.

So it’s a hell of a lot of fun to shoot them.”

“That’s why we call him Mad Dog,”

we shake our heads and say.

 

You don’t have to get very high

 

October 10, 2005  (I was 60)  used year 1, 3, 5

 

You don’t have to get very high

to realize how low we live

 

the nearest hill will do

a natural inclination puts you above man-made

 

Sit in dappled shade

and solve a problem slowly

 

To carry the hill home

build your house upon it

Hirth From Earth/Hirth Martinez

 

August 12, 2005  (I was 60)

 

Hirth From Earth/Hirth Martinez

Warner Bros. BS 2867 released May 1975

         Hirth From Earth is the album I’ve been waiting for, the album I’ve been expecting Harry Nilsson to make ever since Schmilsson.  But Hirth Martinez is not Harry Nilsson –or is he?  Compare the cover photos with those on Nilsson’s Duit On Mon Dei.

         From Earth is a superb album.  Robbie Robertson’s production is a part of the talent operating here, but all the songs were written by Martinez and the resemblances to The Band’s music are fleeting and understated.  There is a large orchestra, fifty musicians, twelve violins, but the orchestration is never overwhelming.  The strings, horns, synthesizers, congas and concertinas appear selectively throughout the program.  This is nicely embellished Roll and Roll, vamping from New Orleans jazz flavors to neo-vaudevillian ballad, and Martinez’s guitar work and vocals are the featured instruments.  Singing stretched postures, he evokes characterizations –at times the rasping madman of the mountains, at other times a Gaspby romantic playboy.  Through it all it’s the persona of Winter Again, that of a recently-aging poet, which seems to be the most personally reflective.

         My wife looked at the pictures and said, “Ah, that’s not Harry Nilsson.”  A friend who visited a few days said, “I played it twice.  I didn’t like it at all.”  So play it more than twice.     

In the dark all other is alien and obstacle

 

August 7, 2005  (I was 60)

 

In the dark all other is alien and obstacle

no gradation of layered shadow

no dimension to propose definition

no hues to confuse judgment

 

In the void no foreign whisper alters thought

no debate is stirred by falling tree

From the constant taste of self ingestion

nothing swallowed poses question

 

No fragrance to become odor no ripe to rot

no crawl no shiver no sweat to skin

Only in the bright world of gravity and sky

we begin to sense the depths that lie

Red crested white-breasted black winged petite

 

August 3, 2005  (I was 60)

 

Red crested white-breasted black winged petite

I should but do not know your Hawaiian name

Names of many smaller species echo their calls

so petite would seem to fit the beak

You visit my breakfast each morning

You have come to expect bread

I have made you trust me more each day

tossing bits closer to my chair

so now you venture nearly underfoot

Your sidling dance and angling glance

indicate irritation with gifts offered at risk

You tweeze the crust and prance back

to nibble the edge off a heavy load

then aloft but low above the pool

over oleander into palms along the black bay

where jagged lava breaks the morning surf

I’m told it’s cruel to deceive wild creatures

into reliance upon the hand of man

And in a few weeks I will be gone from here

but I remember you from last year

Expectation takes  the risk of self-deception

Every day adaptability expands

and each remembrance of a small trust

draws us a cautious hop closer

The sun was shining behind me in the morning.

 

June 19, 2005  (I was 60)

 

The sun was shining behind me in the morning.

I drove the wagon down the dim low spot in the road.

What rains had been were not here now.

The descent was not steep, the shade was cool,

the mud not deep, I tracked us steadily through.

The sun promised itself on the slope ahead,

warmed our backs; sweat beaded our hair.

Forward the bright inclination soon glared in our eyes.

The wheels threw dirt then clay; the hillcrest lay in shadow.

We got stuck in my ignorance; the sun is setting.

The path behind is golden, our destination dark.

It’s a cool despondent night of frustration and fear.

With cold resignation we gather wood for fire,

eat canned food with plenty to drink.

The stars perforate our thoughts with light,

recognition of our comparative good fortune and a plan

to push the wagon to higher ground at dawn.

unsound expectation

 

from this week in 2005   (I was 61)

 

         unsound expectation

I had expected the sounds from all below

to settle into the comfortable hum

within the sonic universality of aum

I’ve been accustomed to this perception

in the heightened awareness stimulated

by focused intent on the physical climb

But yesterday there was an unfamiliar whine

above the drone and apart from it

It was less plaintive than the squeals

of freeway semis shriller than train wheels

fighting against the curving rails

a sound distinct from historic wails

of horror beyond humanity

that humanity so often creates

I know this subtlety relates

as all sounds from the common source

I just did not expect it in this state

I underestimated us of course

Wild Wing Plantation, The Falcon course

from this week in 2005 (I was 60)

                  Wild Wing Plantation, The Falcon course

    The front nine is okay, some repetitive, back and forth holes in seemingly typical Rees Jones style.  Fairway bunkers in series on either side and sometimes in progression from one side of the fairway to the other.  One trap leads to another if you’re not out cleanly.  The course was in very good shape considering last night's warm rain that dissipated during our first three holes.  My game also had a dreary start.

          Don Brown’s witty chatter in an Irish brogue (as real as magic) and the diminished showers, brightened my demeanor and put me into the game.  Clouds parted to blue skies after the third hole.  The back nine had interesting mounding that created a stadium effect on a number of holes.  The course also moved through some scenic wooded areas of pine in a nice atmosphere of seclusion.

         We rode up to the 18^th tee box to see four large birds perched near the markers.  At first I thought they were statue replicas; the four courses here are named for birds.  But, here there was a falcon (or large hawk) and three turkey vultures.  Soon we realized the hawk had a squirrel pinned to the ground.  The vultures were looking for an opportunity.  They held still until we stepped from the carts.  Then the hawk flew off with the squirrel dangling from its talons.  It evaded the vultures maneuvering through the pines far off into the distance.  This round of golf instantly moved into the realm of the memorable.

Lt. Gen. James Mattis

February 4, 2005  (I was 60)

         Lt. Gen. James Mattis

     (I saw the news today, Oh boy)

We hire a mentality of insensibility

so a group of us feels it should laugh

when he says, “I like killing some people.”

And further, “I admit it; I just like to fight.”

He does not pretend it is for a cause,

we use him for our purpose,

he signs on for his.

He comes cheap but thinks he’s well paid.

We are agents of change.

We don’t even wash our hands.

It’s a cautious laugh

but some applaud when he adds,

“You know guys like that,”

(referring to Muslims)

“aint got no manhood left anyway.

So it’s a hell of a lot of fun to shoot them.”

“That’s why we call him Mad Dog,”

we shake our heads and say.

Hirth From Earth/Hirth Martinez

August 12, 2005  (I was 60)

Hirth From Earth/Hirth Martinez

Warner Bros. BS 2867 released May 1975

         Hirth From Earth is the album I’ve been waiting for, the album I’ve been expecting Harry Nilsson to make ever since Schmilsson.  But Hirth Martinez is not Harry Nilsson –or is he?  Compare the cover photos with those on Nilsson’s Duit On Mon Dei.

         From Earth is a superb album.  Robbie Robertson’s production is a part of the talent operating here, but all the songs were written by Martinez and the resemblances to The Band’s music are fleeting and understated.  There is a large orchestra, fifty musicians, twelve violins, but the orchestration is never overwhelming.  The strings, horns, synthesizers, congas and concertinas appear selectively throughout the program.  This is nicely embellished Roll and Roll, vamping from New Orleans jazz flavors to neo-vaudevillian ballad, and Martinez’s guitar work and vocals are the featured instruments.  Singing stretched postures, he evokes characterizations –at times the rasping madman of the mountains, at other times a Gaspby romantic playboy.  Through it all it’s the persona of Winter Again, that of a recently-aging poet, which seems to be the most personally reflective.

         My wife looked at the pictures and said, “Ah, that’s not Harry Nilsson.”  A friend who visited a few days said, “I played it twice.  I didn’t like it at all.”  So play it more than twice.

Red crested white-breasted black winged petite

August 3, 2005  (I was 60)

Red crested white-breasted black winged petite

I should but do not know your Hawaiian name

Names of many smaller species echo their calls

so petite would seem to fit the beak

You visit my breakfast each morning

You have come to expect bread

I have made you trust me more each day

tossing bits closer to my chair

so now you venture nearly underfoot

Your sidling dance and angling glance

indicate irritation with gifts offered at risk

You tweeze the crust and prance back

to nibble the edge off a heavy load

then aloft but low above the pool

over oleander into palms along the black bay

where jagged lava breaks the morning surf

I’m told it’s cruel to deceive wild creatures

into reliance upon the hand of man

And in a few weeks I will be gone from here

but I remember you from last year

Expectation takes  the risk of self-deception

Every day adaptability expands

and each remembrance of a small trust

draws us a cautious hop closer

The sun was shining behind me in the morning

June 19, 2005  (I was 60)

The sun was shining behind me in the morning.

I drove the wagon down the dim low spot in the road.

What rains had been were not here now.

The descent was not steep, the shade was cool,

the mud not deep, I tracked us steadily through.

The sun promised itself on the slope ahead,

warmed our backs; sweat beaded our hair.

Forward the bright inclination soon glared in our eyes.

The wheels threw dirt then clay; the hillcrest lay in shadow.

We got stuck in my ignorance; the sun is setting.

The path behind is golden, our destination dark.

It’s a cool despondent night of frustration and fear.

With cold resignation we gather wood for fire,

eat canned food with plenty to drink.

The stars perforate our thoughts with light,

recognition of our comparative good fortune and a plan

to push the wagon to higher ground at dawn.

unsound expectation

from this week in 2005

            unsound expectation

I had expected the sounds from all below

to settle into the comfortable hum

within the sonic universality of aum

I’ve been accustomed to this perception

in the heightened awareness stimulated

by focused intent on the physical climb

But yesterday there was an unfamiliar whine

above the drone and apart from it

It was less plaintive than the squeals

of freeway semis shriller than train wheels

fighting against the curving rails

a sound distinct from historic wails

of horror beyond humanity

that humanity so often creates

I know this subtlety relates

as all sounds from the common source

I just did not expect it in this state

I underestimated us of course

Wild Wing Plantation, The Falcon course

from this week in 2005 (I was 60)

                        Wild Wing Plantation, The Falcon course

    The front nine is okay, some repetitive, back and forth holes in seemingly typical Rees Jones style.  Fairway bunkers in series on either side and sometimes in progression from one side of the fairway to the other.  One trap leads to another if you’re not out cleanly.  The course was in very good shape considering last night's warm rain that dissipated during our first three holes.  My game also had a dreary start.

          Don Brown’s witty chatter in an Irish brogue (as real as magic) and the diminished showers, brightened my demeanor and put me into the game.  Clouds parted to blue skies after the third hole.  The back nine had interesting mounding that created a stadium effect on a number of holes.  The course also moved through some scenic wooded areas of pine in a nice atmosphere of seclusion.

         We rode up to the 18^th tee box to see four large birds perched near the markers.  At first I thought they were statue replicas; the four courses here are named for birds.  But, here there was a falcon (or large hawk) and three turkey vultures.  Soon we realized the hawk had a squirrel pinned to the ground.  The vultures were looking for an opportunity.  They held still until we stepped from the carts.  Then the hawk flew off with the squirrel dangling from its talons.  It evaded the vultures maneuvering through the pines far off into the distance.  This round of golf instantly moved into the realm of the memorable.