Once
upon a time there was a vagabond poet who dropped off the face of the
Earthblog. The world was flat, or felt that way.
At
long last I am clawing my way out of invisibility as I compose this first post
in this new incarnation, Vagabond Poet
Redux. I’m writing it on a new laptop for a truly fresh start. And I am
returned from the abyss of loss since my beloved husband and vagabond partner,
Roger, who died last July after three years of decline into dementia. I had to
put this blog on hold. Until tonight.
The
year has turned a corner again, and we’re well into the second (!) month of
2018, the first year in which on no day will Roger be alive with me to share in
it. It’s enough to give me syntax issues. An entire year without him in my
life, the first of…. And the first
Valentine’s Day without my sweetheart. It is to sigh.
Despite
his frailties, Roger was able to muster his plucky self for two final travel
adventures—to Cuba for 12 days over the 2015-2016 New Year’s holidays…and in
September 2016 for a two-week voyage along the spectacular Norwegian coast,
over the top to the Russian border and back to Bryggen. You can follow us
through and around Cuba in the photobook I created at: https://karlasphotobooks.shutterfly.com/. Meanwhile, enjoy this:
The Bee
Hummingbird
The
smallest bird on Earth
has
no story of La Revolución;
the
smallest bird on Earth
never
eyed elites become exiles.
The
smallest bird on Earth
zipped
past things Soviet
(tanks,
missiles, construction vehicles),
ignored
Fidel’s orations, Che’s fiery wit,
and
Camillo’s hot blood— spilled;
nor
did the smallest bird
protest
egregious U.S. embargos,
Nike
missiles aimed at Havana.
And
when Russia vamoosed
the
smallest bird on this Earth
lost
none of its milligram weight,
much
less 20% as did the country’s
populace
post-U.S.S.R., abandoned
during
the Special-Period famine of food and fuel.
Throughout
modern Cuban history,
the
smallest bird on Earth
sipped
bougainvillea and poinciana
in
the Guanahacabibes jungle,
mated,
fed, bred, and hummed
its
smallest endemic songs
that
to this day tell the story
of
Cuba’s sweet-nectared survival.
(Appeared in the FootHills publishing
anthology, Birdsong:
Poems in Celebration of Birds)
Alas,
in Roger’s last several months, I didn’t have time to design a photobook for
our Norwegian odyssey. Now I’m not sure I have the heart to revisit those
pictures. I can, however, give you this glimpse through a poem and a classic
“K+R” photograph, taken in Bryggen.
After the Tour
The
cathedrals of Norway
leap
and soar to the sky
ornate
spires, gleaming spires,
of
stone, of steel,
Medieval
and modern,
stained
glass windows
of
glittering geometric mosaics;
Jesus
and Mary
of
such meticulous beauty
and
attention to light
at
every turn
sculptures
finely carved
gargoyles
and angels,
St,
Olaf in lieu of Thor—
of
interest for their art and architecture
of
interest for their history
and
illuminated Christian mythologies
of
supplanting the pantheon of the Norse;
of
similar interest: the ruination of the runes,
of
merely intellectual interest to me
among
the cathedrals of Norway.
But—
and I have a witness—
I
lit a candle
in
Tromsø,
I
lit a candle in Trondheim.
That’s
the light that matters.
~ for Iris Heichel, who with
her husband Gary,
witnessed this poem
(Appeared
in Miriam’s Well: Poetry, Land Art, and
Beyond, November 2016)
Off to See the
World
I’m
off to see the world, there’s such a lot of world to see…
On
his death bed in our living room in Brockport, Roger listened to a poem I read
him, one I’d just written about a kayaking expedition we’d taken on the Inside
Passage off the coast of British Columbia. He was able to grasp the essence of
it as was evidenced by his grip on my arm and his response afterwards: I want you to keep traveling, he said in
a low, ragged voice. Promise.
I’m keeping that promise.
Mark your calendars
and watch this space for more details re:
Late July: Hola, New Mexico
For the first time in four years (and
since Roger died), I’ll be returning to the Land of Enchantment for eight days,
with several spent in Taos where I’ll be giving a reading at SOMOS, the town’s
literary center. If you’re in the area on July 25 please drop in. I’ll also be
seeing poet friends in Santa Fe for a two-day stay with a final overnight in
Albuquerque where I’m planning to meet up with two more poets. I have ashes to be scattered.
Late August: Ahoy,
Alaska, and the Haida Gwaii
of British Columbia
A fifth time back to Alaska! Yeppers. But this Lindblad Expedition will
take me to Sitka, where I’ve never been and where my father served for a spell
in WWII. We’ll also touch the Haida Gwaii, remote islands in the Queen
Charlotte Islands archipelago and are home to centuries-old totem-pole stands.
The nifty part is I’ll be traveling with a couple Roger and I met on our
Lindblad voyage in Scotland in 2014. Diane and Steve will be delightful
companions for this first cruise sans Roger. I have more ashes to be scattered.
Here’s a poem from an earlier Alaskan
vagabond adventure:
Viewfinding
For one moment
the universe collapses
into a frame of black
on white, a minyan
of ravens against Yukon
mountain icefields bleached
a paler shade of pale.
The birds are near;
the high peaks far.
I touch them both.
Feather & stone
sealed glacier deep
become my body:
corvid warm,
granite solid.
I fly, I stand still,
even in near-Solstice
sun above the 60th
parallel. I travel
great distances, but
I remain with you
in the old photograph
taken by my inner eye.
As a flash I am there,
I am here.
Follow me.
Appeared
in Cirque, Winter 2015-16; displayed
in a Cirque open-air exhibit in Soldatna, AK, summer 2017.
January 2010: Off
to See the World
In January 2019 I will be voyaging on
the Queen Mary 2 for a Cunard World
Cruise of 108 days. You’ll hear more in posts
to come. Yes, I have more and more ashes
to be scattered.
~~~
If
you’d like to read more poetry, here are a few links to a variety of
publications…a variety of poems:
