Second Installment

I'M BEGINNING TO THINK PERHAPS THE GOAL OF THIRTY HAIKU WAS A TAD AMBITIOUS.  AND WHEN (IF) IT'S ALL DONE THEY WILL DEFINITELY NEED TO BE REORDERED.  IN ADDITION, RE: THE PREVIOUS POEM, BOOTS, IT SEEMS TO ME THAT RATHER THAN MY PUTTING ON A FAKE SOUTHERN ACCENT (THE BEST THAT TEN YEARS OF VOCAL TRAINING AND DICTION COULD GET ME), I'D MUCH RATHER HEAR IT READ BY, SAY, ANNA PAQUIN, WHO HAS A FAR SUPERIOR FAKE SOUTHERN ACCENT, AND ALSO A MUCH GAPPIER GAP TOOTH.  IN FACT, THE GAP BETWEEN MY OWN FRONT TEETH HAS ALL BUT CLOSED UP SINCE CHILDHOOD.  AND NOW, SADLY, I HAVE BECOME LIKE EVERYONE ELSE.  BUT I DIGRESS...


IX. HUMAN NATURE
FLEETING LIGHT STRIKES THEM,
ROOTING IN THE GROUND AGAIN--
SUBJECT AND OBJECT.


X. PERFUMERY
BLOOD RED HEARTS THAT BREAK
SPILL THEIR SCENT UNEVENLY,
SLIGHTING PATIENT HANDS.


XI. SKETCHING
PROUDLY DRAWN PETALS--
IS THAT THE WAY YOU WANT HER,
CAPTURED IN SATIN?


XII. DOMESTICATED
SLOW MELT... SIMMERING--
HOT HOUSE ORCHIDS TAKE THE HEAT,
SCENT THEIR SACRIFICE.

THIS WAS, ACTUALLY, HALF INSPIRED BY A PHOTO IN A BOOK MY SISTER LENT ME CALLED "MID CENTURY MODERN DESIGN"...ANYWAY THE PHOTO WAS OF A LOVELY SMILING LADY IN AN APRON SURROUNDED BY AN ARCHITECTURALLY SWEDISH KITCHEN FILLED WITH PUMPKIN-ORANGE "CUTTING EDGE" 1950'S APPLIANCES.  AND SHE WAS HOISTING A GARGANTUAN BLACK TEA KETTLE.

OH, AND THE OTHER HALF OF THE INSPIRATION CAME FROM MY NIECE'S "ROSE PETAL COTTAGE" WHICH, IF YOU'VE NEVER SEEN IT, IS A PLAY HOUSE WITH JUST ENOUGH ROOM FOR AN OVEN, WASHING MACHINE, IRONING BOARD, AND BABY CHANGING TABLE.  NO RECLINER.  GEESH, IT MUST GET HOT IN THERE! 


XIII. PARK AND RIDE
TRICKLE DOWN LILY
FACE THE ASPHALT, STEMS TIED DOWN
BURN WITH YOUR BREATHING.


XIV. ESCAPE ARTIST
DELIBERATE MUSE,
REVEAL YOUR COMPLEXITY
CLIMBING GARDEN WALLS


XV. MORNING AFTER
DAWN AWAKENS DROUGHT.
NAIVE STRANGERS, STRUGGLING,
TILL THE TIRED PLOT.


SOMETHING OCCURS TO ME AS I CONTINUE THIS, OF WHAT I WANT THE THEME OF THE WHOLE PROJECT TO BE ABOUT.  I FEEL IT'S CHANGING FROM WHAT IT WAS WHEN I STARTED OUT.  ORIGINALLY, THE CONCEPT OF "GUERRILLA GARDENING" AS I UNDERSTOOD IT IS MAN'S STRUGGLE TO KIND OF HARNESS NATURE'S BOUNTY--SOIL, PLANTS, FLOWERS, FRUITS AND VEGETABLES--AND SQUEEZE IT INTO THESE LITTLE URBAN POCKETS WHEREVER WE CAN FIND THEM.  SO THE POETRY WAS GOING TO BE FROM THE POINT OF VIEW OF NATURE--ITS STRUGGLE TO CO-EXIST WITH US IN A WORLD WHERE WE'RE CONSTANTLY TEMPERING AND ORDERING THE WILDERNESS.  BUT THEN AS I'M WRITING I'M REALIZING THAT WHAT THIS WHOLE SERIES IS REALLY ENDING UP TO BE IS A RECOGNITION OF...I DON'T KNOW, HUMANITY'S OWN WILDERNESS SO TO SPEAK.  OUR STRUGGLE FOR CIVILITY IN THE MIDST OF THE WILDNESS OF OUR RELATIONSHIPS TO ONE ANOTHER AND OURSELVES.

   THUS OUR INFATUATION WITH THE NATURAL WORLD THAT DOESN'T LET US FORGET WHERE WE COME FROM.  LIKE IN POLLAN'S BOOK WHERE HE SAYS SOMETHING TO EFFECT OF "IT IS NOT WE WHO HAVE CONQUERED THE GARDEN, BUT RATHER THE GARDEN THAT HAS CONQUERED US."  I'M NOTICING THAT'S WHAT'S HAPPENING HERE, AS I SEE THE EVIDENCE IN THE VERBIAGE... "STRIKE, ROOT, BREAK, SPILL, SLIGHT, CAPTURE, TIE, BURN, STRUGGLE, CLIMB..." THE LIST GOES ON.  NOT EXACTLY FLOWER SHOW MATERIAL.