This poem has nothing to do with 9/11.


Watch on Vimeo

There are no planes
or denunciations in it,
nothing combustible,
no flags or falling bodies,
no twisted I-beams
or pacifist cris de coeur.
In this poem, we are
eating soup, & the radio
is off as it always is during meals.
Nobody calls to tell us
to tune in. We are for
the most part ignoring
the extraordinary events taking place
all around us in field & woodlot,
in the air & soil & water
from which we are knit.
The soup is hot, & so good.
I dip my bread in it,
extending its dominion.
When the bread is gone, I lift
the bowl to my lips & slurp
as I learned to do years ago
in Japan. My father
will wash the dishes.
We will each slice open
& remove the inedible stone from
a dead-ripe peach.

*

Shown in the video: a green darner migration swarm from last weekend.

(Update) Here’s the whole song I used a snippet from for the soundtrack:
Beatrice et Benedict: Je Vais Le Voir- Berlioz by Teresa Macdonald

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Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave's writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the "share alike" provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).

8 Comments



  1. I love

    We are for
    the most part ignoring
    the extraordinary events taking place
    all around us in field & woodlot,
    in the air & soil & water
    from which we are knit.

    — beautiful.

    Reply

  2. Love the last sentence. The last line is particularly good. I also love the idea of surviving these media-pushed anniversaries.

    We are for
    the most part ignoring
    the extraordinary events taking place
    all around us in field & woodlot,
    in the air & soil & water
    from which we are knit.

    That says it all!

    Reply

  3. Thanks, everyone! It didn’t occur to me until Luisa pointed it out, but I guess the poem and video are pretty via negativistic — which makes it fitting, perhaps, that I went to the trouble of inserting a VN logo for the first time (the character mu/wu, in case anyone’s curious. Though I’m thinking perhaps I should’ve used the version from seal script instead, as it is way cooler looking).

    Reply

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