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February 18, 2002

President’s Day

As I think I’ve explained, we don’t really do President’s Day around here. No offense to any presidents, but it’s just not in the spirit of this enterprise. I can’t think of any statues of presidents in the Park, so maybe I’m not the only one who feels this way. There is Teddy Roosevelt, across the street in front of the American Museum of Natural History, and maybe he best reflects the difficulty: no president is more identified with conservation, but it’s effected through the paternalistic power of the great white hunter.
There is no hunting in the Park, though there may be a few poachers.
No hunting, and no presidents.
Just a lot of this...
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February 14, 2002

Valentine's Day

Well, that was a rather grim post yesterday, and it's a malicious calendar that puts the Day of Love on the precipice of Lent. But even the lovelorn may live in hope, and I would not leave you without an image to counter our mortification. So take another look at that last blasted tree…
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February 13, 2002

Ash Wednesday

For Lent, a few bare trees…
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February 2, 2002

Interrupted

Deep in dark
I sleep.
Can’t tell cold from warm;
Warmth of sleep.
Cuddled in crevice,
In earth, in mud.
Safe from day,
Ensconced underneath,
I sleep.

Winter is to sleep away.
So why the white Sun rising
Leaking in, creeping in?
To what vain heatless end?
A headache and a fallow vision.
Vision of a moment only;
I turn my back and face the shadow
Spread wider than the one who cast it.
Wide enough to make a bed in;
To slip between the morning’s talons.
Slip back to sleep;
Sleep, sleep,
Sleep, sleep.
Turn out the light!
Six more weeks.
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