Not letting a sleeping poem lie

This is the latest poem I'm working on. I may yet make some minor changes to it. It jumped the queue, as my pieces sometimes do, past the poem I alluded to a couple posts back. It's an invention with no particular inspiration, just vague impressions that had been floating about my imagination.

These recurring deaths
By Francis Scudellari

These recurring deaths brought down by
drowsing shade, Hypnos who nightly
stalks him, catches him, carries him
away to puzzle-piece landscapes;
odd bits jammed together, seeming
crudely fit with hasty fingers...

Time again dropped 'neath paint-smear sky:
purple-black dotted with pink-white.
A speckled canvas further smudged
by thick-limbed clouds that hover over
claw-hammer trees, screw-top bushes;
hills' sparse stubble he stumbles through...

As he chases familiar shapes,
shifting glimpses of strange beings;
their vaguely human faces topped
with twisted horn or ragged mane;
misshapen escorts who lead him
across rock shoulders, mossy backs...

Toward a close-cropped clearing where,
gathered with shepherding eyes, they
watch him, welcome him, offer him
sips from stick-carved ladles and spoons
they dip deep in green, soupy streams
to coax him to forgetfulness...

Weak-willed, he drinks serenaded
by an elemental chorus;
some airy, some hot, some mildewed,
all mismatched voices borne aloft
on ancient tongues whose wings beat
a steady pulse, that brings him back ...

To panderer clock's up-swept hands
pushing the rhythmic details of
a new waked sun's rosy allure;
her plying whispers that draw out
his sharp-splinter want for a day
when evening's pause never ends.

Improbable transformation

This is a second drawing inspired by the dream that prodded me to write Trapped Ghost. It should also form the basis of a future poem, but that may take me a week or two.

The neighborhood newspaper biz

This post is a bit out of character, as I don't like to delve too deeply into my non-creative activities on this site, but I also don't want to sit idly by and allow someone to mischaracterize what I do either.

For those who don't know, my friends and I started a new community-based newspaper. It's meant to open up the channels of communication in a diverse neighborhood where information doesn't always flow freely. It's a publication with a distinctly progressive voice, which will become apparent when you see this week's lead story on Naomi Klein's discussion of the financial bailout.

The paper is called The Urban Coaster, and it's beginning to get some attention. CommonDreams.Org just featured the Klein story on its national site and brought us a huge influx of new readers. Unfortunately, with the good always comes some bad. There are those in the community who don't want to see a publication succeed that gives voice to alternative views.

Ours is a strange little neighborhood, where a group of very vocal folks try to shout down anyone who disagrees with their self-aggrandizing agenda. They do this to compensate for the fact that their opinions only resonate with a small minority. Some have blogs that they use to bully others into silence, and they often do so in the most reprehensible ways. Actually, I guess that really isn't much different than the tactics of certain Fox News "personalities."

I don't want to dwell on their negativity too much, and I think the vast majority of people in the community will respond to our positive message much more than their vituperative posts. It's just a shame that some feel the need to resort to the most petty of personal attacks in order to promote their views. I'm not going to stoop to their level.

Art for a change: contribute what you can

Yesterday I was commissioned to write a poem by Zephyr at the Climate of Our Future blog. She asked me to put pen to paper, which I hadn't done in a few years, and portray the urgency of our current environmental crisis. I was humbled to help out in such a great cause and, hack that I am, was able to craft something in pretty short order.

You can see the results, along with Zephyr's very generous intro here.

I'm a firm believer in the power of art to change the world. I certainly don't expect my piece to make much of an impact, but I'd like to see all the artists I know contribute something on this theme, no matter the scale or the media, which could make a surprising difference in transforming people's thinking.

(S)Mothered Earth
by Francis Scudellari

He, his appetites always indulging
Hording each crumb, grasping, clinging
Corpulent, expanding
Never quite full
Enough

She, her beauty spread thin, her bounty laid
Bare, unable to provide for
Children ever growing
Never feeding
Enough

He, unable , unwilling to act, sits
Listless aimless, averting his eyes
Denying, refusing
Never quite sure
Enough

She, her temper flaring, her mood changing
Violent, unstable, punishing
Children ever quiv'ring
Never moth'ring
Enough

Until
Childless, she turns
Her back on, him, them, us
Receding, cold, distant, weathered
No longer owning, knowing, her late self

Until
Alone, gazing
Out a glass, frosted o'er
Mirrored, reflecting, a face now
Withered, not his own. He knows: It's too late.