Groups of Geese
A gaggle of geese. We can also refer to a group of geese on the ground as a herd and a corps.
If the geese are on water, they are a plump.
If in flight, geese are referred to as a skein. The online resource Dictionary.com defines skein as: a flock of geese, ducks, or the like, in flight.
A skein of geese would be a random in pattern in the sky – perhaps small clusters.
If geese are in flight, and flying in a V formation, you would refer to them as a wedge, probably inspired by the shape.
Ross Gay, Book of Delights
Back Pain, Rain, an amazing Poetry Class, Discovering Father Brown
Bewilderment, Unknowing, and my Vision
knowing and not knowing, embracing the uncertainty of never really knowing and accepting that knowing exactly what my vision problem is won’t make a difference in my treatment (there is none) or the speed at which my central vision deteriorates. And, in fact, knowing is not possible. This not knowing is not ignorance–more like never knowing enough, having perpetually incomplete knowledge, the impossibility of KNOWING.
- Bewilderment is at the core of every great poem
- The Poetics of Bewilderment
- Less Than Certain
- Unknowing Lyric
a satisfying sound/ a not so satisfying sound
shshshsh on the grit at the edge of the path.
a woman, breathing heavily, her loud gasps, almost echoing above the gorge, following me for a few minutes.
Typical April in Minnesota
april 8: 69 degrees; april 9: 52 degrees; april 10: a lot of snow; april 11: school cancelled, heavy snow, high winds; april 12: more snow; april 15: 52 degrees, clear path
It is snowing right now. All the sun’s hard work, melting the snow for weeks, undone.
Winter storm warning outside. High winds, heavy snow, falling branches, covered path. School cancelled. So glad we have a treadmill. Although, if it weren’t so windy, I might have enjoyed running outside and hearing the satisfying squeaks and crunches of the heavy, water-logged snow. I’m not happy about this snow, but I also don’t really care. It will melt within a few days.
The beauty of a turkey vulture high in the sky, circling. A squirrel deciding to race me, not darting out in front of me but running beside me through the dead leaves.
Writing Technique/Movement: OuLiPo
Poet: James Laughlin
Scraps of Paper
I picked this last one because it made me think of Susan Howe and her story about Jonathan Edwards and how he would pin ideas he had on scraps of paper to his clothes as he was riding around on his horse. A couple of years ago, I was thinking a lot about how runners hold onto the ideas that they have as their running–scribble it on pieces of paper, carry a small notebook, scratch it in their arm with a stick, talk into their smart phone. Maybe I should experiment with this some more? As I was trying to recall who Howe had been talking about (I had forgotten), I discovered that she wrote a book about Emily Dickinson, My Emily Dickinson. I might have to check it out of the library. Apparently, Dickinson wrote many of her poems on scraps of paper.
How do you keep
an idea from running away? Grab a stick
and etch it in your arm? Pin a piece
of paper to your clothes? Jot it down
in a pocket-sized notebook? Speak it
into your smart phone? Why
not let it run away
instead of immobilizing it with words.
You might be able to follow it
into the woods or
over the creek or
down by the river or
under the bridge.
Words may not be fast enough to follow
but you might
with your flying feet.
Me & my Body
Back when I started running, I never thought about my body. It worked fine, so why pay attention to it? Now, I have aches and pains and injuries. These are frustrating and painful and scary but I do appreciate the new, more informed, relationship I’m having with my knees and hips and back and the rest of my body. It’s difficult growing older and having to try harder to not hurt but, at the same time, I’m enjoying learning more and having the chance to pay attention to my body. So helpful and interesting!
’ve always been restless, needing to move, starting to pace if I stayed in the same spot too long, but now my body is revolting even more. Sitting in a chair for an hour or more, I get stiff and sore and my kneecap shifts slightly out of place. Boo. An aging body is no fun
Recording My Thoughts about the River, overlook on lake street bridge
transcript from recording:
on the lake street bridge
watching the river water
as it slowly moves
at certain spots it’s shimmering
at other spots
it almost looks like a pale ghost
ghostly ice just under the surface
or muddy swirls near the bottom
the dirt just being loosened
and brought up to the surface
the river is mostly brown and then blue
and everything’s brown
and the water just slowly moves
earlier it seemed
almost dead lifeless so still
and now I can see it’s just slowly
moving closer to the falls
another day: Stopped at the Lake Street bridge and noticed the water again. A dark olive green this time instead of brown. Still cloudy–looks like the river has cataracts?–moving very slowly. I watched a big log drift down towards the falls.
caesura (a stop of pause in the metrical line).
enjambment: threshold, line breaks
speed: short is slower. long, faster
treat each line on its own terms, cover the other lines while you read it
Layers, Inner and Outer Weather Again
Found my notes for April 23, 2018 in my running notebook. All about layers and inner and outer weather. I’ve been trying to write about layers for over a year now. Will it ever click? Not sure. At the top of the page, I wrote: attention distraction/ distraction attention/ wandering between/ boundary/ border/ layer
Counted different layers of clothing left by the side of the path–overdressed runners? A black stocking cap. A black sweatshirt. Anything else?
april 28: first time doing the two trails route!