* sketching with Miriam Sagan

*historically historic district*

*historically historic district*

This is a church right across the street from our new apartment in Cincinnati.  We have moved into a historic district which reveals new things with each walk we take around the neighborhood.

The drive across country was a series of things being revealed.  In Itasca, Ani pointed out a cardinal excitedly, fascinated with how the actual red of the cardinal is a different from what she envisions in her head.  I told her to sketch it.  She responded: How do you sketch that red?

**

A few weeks before the move I was delighted to receive from Miriam Sagan herself a copy of her book “Seven Places in America: A Poetic Sojourn.”  The poems and essays in the book follow Sagan as she travels to seven places and documents the life lived and seen.  It was a great guide for my own poetic sojourn, and the inspiration for my post last week.

The poem below is one of a number poems in Sagan’s book that create their magic through a series of short lyrics.  There’s something about the short lyric that is ideal for travel.  When you travel there is so much to see – you can barely take it all in, much less write about it.

How do you sketch that red?

One line at a time.

**

Sketches in a Notebook – Miriam Sagan

a lizard
living
in a rolled up shade

tree bromeliads –
two cormorants
build a nest of twigs

man with a cane
crosses path with
a tiny turtle

child pats the palm tree
ignores
the alligator

tree canopy
butterfly, and purple glade
morning glory

rare buttonwood vine
looks like any foliage –
but rare –

a leaf drops in
the mahogany hammock –
without season

out of the palm trees
a peacock darts – escaped –
but from where?

tree snail gleams
in the leaf canopy –
stolen ghost orchid

raindrops’ circles –
yellow spatterdock flowers
floating green pods –

two shy vultures
pick raindrops
off the car’s roof

only the most
delicate colored pencils
draw the tree snail’s shell

cypresses
drawn in an inky line,
overcast afternoon

leaf’s
drop tip
implies rain

**

Happy implying!

Jose

* check out Miriam Sagan’s blog here.

* from the car: verses & such

As we made our way from O to O – Oregon to Ohio – I found myself writing little lyrics along the way.  I also wrote snippets of our conversation, bits that made me laugh or that meant something to me.

I consider it a sort of travel journal/daybook – one strictly written in the car, with all the randomness and fleeting nature of things passing by a car window, blurring and fascinating.  Keeping these in the car helped shape their brevity.

Today is the last day of the journey.  Expect the usual Influence biz next week.

For now, enjoy my own narrow road from a narrow interior.

***

DAY 1: Eugene OR to Spokane WA

shadow of a cloud
over the yellow grass – the
first time she’s noticed

“The clouds look painted on —

(in cloud voice)
You guys, they noticed.
I told you they’d notice.
You can’t just put on falsies!”

outside of Fishtrap
clouds in their schools of shade and
light over the trees

DAY 2: Spokane WA to Bozeman MT

snow on the mountains
in Montana – river sounds
cold against my ear

Coeur D’alene River
breaking as we pass – she asks:
why do rivers wind?

(me)
“I hope we’re not headed towards those clouds.”

(ani)
“Where do you think we’re headed?  Behind us?”

DAY 3: Bozeman MT to Dickinson ND

(ani)
“I’m so tired of driving into the sky.”

cows dip their heads
into the grass
and move their mouths
eating under
through all these clouds

looking down into
the Badlands
we laugh into
knuckle-white
clouds

*Badlandery*

*Badlandery*

DAY 4: Dickinson ND to Eden Prairie MN

Minnesota lakes
on the side of the highway
the sky’s loose pages

pelican alone
on the water – a white that
dives into itself

miles after leaving
North Dakota the red dust
streaked across the car

DAY 5 Eden Prairie MN to Itasca IL

morning fog on the
Mississippi River – map
trembles in my hand

rain dots the windshield
the colors of passing cars
under a gray sky

*

See you in Cincy!

Jose