L'aura del Campo

Kindness and Insanity in Kansas; Making up words: La'a

SPRING: 5 Jalál (13 April)

Weather where I am: 79º this morning and looking at a possible 90+ day. Too warm for me.

Weather in Missoula, Montana: 48º and showers, some snow in the mountains.

Weather in Sweden: From a predicted high (high?) of 36º in Luleå to a mild (mild?) high of 46º in Karlstad.

See? Montana is feeling warmer by the minute! And I'll be overheating this afternoon.

Kindness in Kansas

I have a friend who was faced with a dilemma as a very strict German Roman Catholic.

Her nephew was killed in Iraq and buried in their small blink-on-the-map town on the flats of Southwest Kansas.

At the same time Melanie, our yellow parakeet, died. There was some concern that the blue one would follow. A month passed and she survvived. Then a white male was introduced and feathers were ruffled for a while. Now they get along just fine.

When Melanie and my friend's nephew died I thought of writing a poem about how hard it is to survive. Wish I would've. The nephew's wife couldn't take the pain and commited suicide.

And there-in lies the dilemma. The Catholic Church does not allow burial in their cemeteries of people who take their own life. More pain. My friend was approached because part of the cemetary rightfully belonged to her family, the family that had founded the settlement.

She was torn too and called a family member who is a bishop for advice. He counseled her to follow her heart. She spoke to the family/church and said that the young woman would be buried next to her beloved husband.

As a strict Catholic, she cannot accept the suicide, but her heart spoke of compassion. And where did she learn this compassion? Her grandfather in 1908 had made a similar decision. Some babies had died in Dodge City and the family was denied burial in Dodge (whether for reasons of ethnicity, they were Mexican, or who knows ...). They asked if there was a corner of the cemetary in this rural town that they could use. My friend's grandfather offered a spot in his own bural plot. He carved some stones for them. And there they rest.

There are laws and rules and regulations; but, the heart knows better when to bend and be generous of spirit. Yes, there is kindness in Kansas.

Written April of 2005:

Yellow Rose of Kansas


The yellow rose of Kansas
blooms a verdant velveteen.
Elegant, she shimmers,
through aisles of books and dreams.

With eloquence she speaks of folk
that dwell in other lands,
where velvet was a well-known coin,
and washing done by hand.

(It kept them humble.)

The yellow rose blooms bright this Spring,
a thornless smile in velveteen. [162.32]

I need to give this poem to her! Finally a year later I am able to edit it a bit. It is closer to where it needs to be. You may review it at: "Yellow Rose of Kansas"  Update: saw Rose at Tea and gave her a copy.

Insanity in Kansas: nerves are shot again

I needed to do my Tea at Three poetry brochure this morning. I got permission to use Chris' computer. And was doing okay, until so-and-so barged in to look for tobacco, flipped on the light, shook the table I was working at, flipped off the light, repeated this two more times, came back to roll cigarettes and eat, turned on the music and proceded to have a loud conversation at my back with his outside projecting voice. I blew . When he dissed my work as merely 'writing a letter to my boyfriend' in that special smirky-faced voice, I really blew up . And then he wouldn't shut up.

It is true he was working the kitchen, but I was in the office, had closed the door and needed to work. I wasn't keeping him from his job or trying to make life more difficult for him.

I've avoided him in the past because of his bizarre behaviour: always interupting, totally unconscience of others, rude, crude, makes cruel comments, likes to play juvenile games, bangs doors. My anxiety can't take his ever-loving shit.

But this is consistent with the daily goals around here: fun, feed, flop and f*** (in any order, time or place). My nerves can't take much more of this.

I could barely finish my editing because my hand was shaking too much to get the mouse in the correct position. Finally, I calmed down, made a couple copies, left, went to Kinko's and made bright yellow brochures to hand out. Have already handed out 4 and it isn't noon yet.

I included my signature piece "Tea-tottering-time" , and sketches written this April that I put here in my blog this past week: 'Quaking Kansas', 'Chalker', 'Addressed to a hockey player', 'Mocking birds', and 'Midwifery'.

Now I need to go work on my poetry biography for Maryam. Wish me luck. Must get it done today. Had to interrupt my groove last night because I needed to be back by 8 pm. Don't ask why, unless you want to hear a whole lot of venom you really don't deserve to hear and can't do nothing about .

Sketched 4/11:

La'a

Two coconuts and a dozen flowers.
We divide the spoils of last night's chaos:
to know the sands,
the caress of brine upon our toes,
a scuttling crab,
four lips.

The milk and sweetmeat we divide in two;
the flowers we string and
in the meditation of the chew,
we grasp two moments,
me and you, before the rush to jobs,
to sundry tasks.

For this gift of sight and smell and breath,
risked for moments that made chests throb,
that won't forget,
only forgiveness from the wind
is asked. [163.54]

Making up words?

I made up a word la'a. I then wrote a poem. Then, out of curiosity I checked the web ... just in case ... this is what I found: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La'a_Maomao

So I kept the title and decided to tweak the poem ! The actual word gave the poem further focus and improved it quite a bit.

Other made up words: bekaat, nghobee, mbunti, subze.

The results!!!!!!

bekaat (40 hits) means something in Kurdish, not sure what yet.
nghobee, nghobe (none), but nxobe (15 hits) is a stork.
Mbunti (12 hits) is in Nigeria.
subze (458 hits) included a site in Danish, but it's probably a spelling of an South Asian dish (Which I've eaten but didn't think of the spelling!)

Lesson: making up a word is fine! But check the internet before posting publicly. Might save some embarassment .

Taken two years ago, but it looks like this today with the crabapple in bloom:



Gawd, this blog has 2,422 views and counting!

And AL is going to burst my stitches laughing!

HEAT

It is 5 p.m. It is hot! 93º and like an oven. Broke records already. One more degree and it can tie the highest recorded temperature in history in April, 94º on April 26, 1989. It has already tied the second, April 27, 1956. The normal temp for today would be: 68º high and 46º low.

The trees are rushing to green up and flowers are dropping. Too much heat. We can still have a frost into early May.