L'aura del Campo

Autumn: 14 Qawl (December 6)

2005-12-06
late afternoon, 19 degrees. 14 in Missoula, MT.

Bitter cold here tonight and in Montana too. Saunny gave me a ride up the hill so I didn't freeze.

Must call the doc. No word about my stress test. Mustn't have turned out too bad.

One more week in hell. Then I get to choose whether I stay or go. Even if I end up in Florida, it could be just for a vacation.

Chatham College has an MFA with an emphasis on nature, environment and travel writing. Might be write up my alley: http://www.chatham.edu/departments/writing/graduate/writing/index.cfm

2005-12-06
afternoon, 20 degrees. 79 in Vanuatu.

If I don't focus I can pick up the gist of articles written in bislama. Nice and warm in the islands off of Queensland. There was a recent article about a village that had to move inland due to rising sea levels. I expect to see more of this.

Good old Hurricane Epsilon! Still churning, turning south towards South America, a storm that just won't give it up. If this season is ending late, will next season start early?

2005-12-06
morning, 12 degrees. 32 in Providence, RI.

After so much warm weather, this cold is 'chillin'.

Prof. thinks I'm best with my poems based in nature and place. Gave me the title "Without a Garden" based on the fact that I've gardened most of my life and haven't been able for over two years.

I mentioned Brown University and she thought I might fit in well there. Guess Brown is the goofy Ivy League school. Since I'm ecclectic and try not to fit in any one box I have to consider it. It's also more studio oriented.

Other stray thoughts:

~ make a peiades poem based on 'x' as in xeric- (dry), xantho- (yellow), xylem, xyst, maybe xylo- and xano-. With rhyme royale (ababbcc) at the end it could be a winner!

~ my strengths: lyricism, social observation, nature.

~ my situation: a total loss of control over my days and nights.

~ on the day before tomorrow, the day after yesterday.

~ iced butterflies. Wrote that poem once and have misplaced it.

~ 1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 ~ a sucession of numbers where the next in sequence will be the sum of the last two. Next? 34 of course! And 55, 89, 144 ... It approaches the ratio of .618 I could see using this to make a poem. I'd probably go up to 21 syllables and then down again. A total of 103 syllables. A sonnet is about 140. Could I work in a Sapphic rhythm of XxxXx?
Could I disguise it as (1 1 2 3) (5) (3 5) (2 3 3 5) ((3 5 5 [5 3])) (5 3 3 2) (5 3) (5) (3 2 1 1)? In stanzas of 41 21 41 or 28 13 21 13 28? So much to think about and play with!

~ bird droppings as in 'observe the burn of cigarette butts below the balcony where the drunks flicked embers towards the other side of the alley; without wings they could not fly; they lie like bird droppings below their nest of empty bottles.' [162.588]

~ 'Poker at the Parthenon' Artemis always wanted to be the Queen B. She challenged poor old Zeus one day. But got him drunk beforehand. Told him he no longer had the balls to rule Olympus. She got game. And played her cards until he could no longer refuse her offer: winner takes all of Athens, the loser leaves for Rome. Who dealt the cards we'll never know, but the rumble from the earth gave birth to waves. Three cities drowned that day. One card dealt and the clouds fled to Spain. The second one felled the trees of Lebanon, the third the pyramid of Ak-Thimon (still not found). The fourth card drew in Moon's bad breath and snow lay on Saharan plains; the Black Sea baked. All were summoned to witness the final blow. To which god would they bow? The armored Queen B She? He, the Lightning Lord-of-all? The answer came in a thunder's roar. So ... Artemis went to Rome and changed her name. Today we'd call her Diana or Lady Di. And Zeus? ¡Aye, diós! We still invoke his name. [162.587]