the yellow wheelbarrow

i dump out the rain
from a yellow wheelbarrow
and find a glaze of sunlight

-bill deemer

humility and prayer just another sunday

what strange notions
who on god's green earth goes about
with notions of humility and
prayer in his thoughts

is it only a story of
what ever we see?

odd that there should be some amongst us
who actually speak to saints
and live as though they are being heard

that some might in fact be praying
while i am busy
testing the patience of god once again

the only beatitude we need
is
blessed are the poor in spirit

to know of ones need is
to have a stake in the heavenly treasure

just another sunday

and yet...yet...yet...another day

faith without doubt is flimsy faith indeed
faith that does not take seriously the words of doubters
is a faith that trembles needlessly
faith gives faith in being faithful
for god just lets us be

each day erupts in a flow of activity
each mind rides the flow like there is no tomorrow
although although
we bank on tomorrow
we have faith tomorrow will come
and it generally does

each day is a blues melody
tinged with hilarity
but sad nonetheless
and the sound of sad melodies
is nothing but god weeping to our hearts

who can stand that

who can stand the pleading of Israel
who can stand the look on the face
of the crucified one an hour before his death

here comes the day
we see
we ponder
we hear
we sing
we speak in words the echo of truth
we dance the mind with electric passion
we know in our hearts
everyone suffers

rock the world with a shout of love
rock the world with a shout of love
rock the world with a shout of love
i know it's gonna be OK OK
i know it's all gwan be OK

all of another day

i rise to greet franz jaegerstatter
blessed today in his defiance
defiance he wore as a robe of nobility
a robe that insisted murder is wrong

what are we to say,
he lost his head over a robe?

there are those who sing truth when confronted
with the sentence of termination
though it comes to all it comes to some
with the singing of angels
when words of beauty stand
in stark and mad defiance against
the insanity of man's morbid mind
and pleads with a song
for the precious beauty of every soul

franz jaegerstatter franz jaegerstatter

let us sing the name again and again

another day

coffee intensifies
the alertness of the mind
the mind assessing the possibilities of the day
the way the first stirrings of odor
alert the mind
the way the morning intrudes
upon consciousness
each day intends itself into the mind
of the conscious mind
the ardent seeker passionate about knowing
hears the words that stir the mind to greater knowing

we dance in this epistemological pas de deux
like clumsy children of ballerinas
we identify with warriors at times
we know that to know is a certain power

and o how the mind seeks to know
and o how the mind seeks to know

we shall not forget the days when the mind
weary of all knowing
sits quiet in the chair
and looks out to the stillness of
beauty and knows it is enough to know
that peace and beauty are
players in the mind game
the dialectical street fighting
the mind does with the real world

a blog post for the land

i can think of no voice
no writer of the later part of the 20th century
who gives a more coherent critique
of the world of "agribusiness"
and the presuppositions from science
which have determined the growth of food
in our country and around the world
than one "wendell berry"

berry's working theme which reached
it's clearest expression in books like
"home economics" and "what are people for"
is: "the scientific-technological option which has given rise
to the large corporate farming industry has not only undermined
'agriculture" but the "culture" which grows from the
interweaving of a community; the land, the family,
the farm, the interdependency of farmers, the town
the interdependency of farms and communities where trade happens,
and the greater good which derives from healthy communities
rooted in the knowledge and respect for the land-
has been replaced by "land technologists" "earth scientists"

farmers no longer know the land they work
they depend on the bio-chemical determinants
from scientific laboratories
thus perpetuating a "mono-crop" pracitice
which depletes the soil
and necessitates a chemical replenishment
which in turn effects the water and
biological and botanical character of a place

it can be argued that this new scientific method
has done much to increase the yield in places
where a more naturally determined agriculture
brought about less

in some ways the modern approach has
made life for a big farmer easier
it has diminished some of the risk
inherent in any geographically determined place
by this i mean
places like north central montana
where farmers were either beholden to
the weather risks of wheat farming
and the grazing potential of cattle
now with chemical fertilizer
it is far easier to bank on a wheat crop
than gamble with the seasons
but the land and the erosion of chemically laden
topsoil has takin it's toll on the local watersheds
reducing cold streams to little more than
muddy ribbons of strange green growth
killing off much of the natural vegetation
around old streams
and replacing it with fertilizer enhanced
growth that clogs and more or less destroys
the natural flow of seasonal streams

it is safe to place wendell berry in the
modern category of environmentalist
but he is also a literary giant
one commonly overlooked for he has
worked in definite contrast to the academy

novels poetry collections essays
and a few plays have been the media
for his comprehensive and coherent view

his view remains completely local
while not oblivious to the "global" concerns
of our day
berry insists that the work of a man and a woman
are best focused within the community
where a person lives

this sensibility does not challenge the view
of someone like al gore
but to read wendell berry is to become aware
of the importance of being rooted in a place
and to work out the values of conservation of land
and thereby the conservation of culture
within a range that is feasible for the average human

world leaders can articulate visions for the planet
but perhaps all of us need to continually focus our efforts
within the region where we actually live

let us envision places where people live
with a happy dependency on local food
let us practice care for the land
where we live
and while keeping our senses alert
to the concerns of the planet
let us give our lives over to the real needs
that effect our homes and those of our neighbors

this will require nothing less than a reverence
for the soil and the vegetation of a place
before it was marked with the designs
malignant and benign
of mankinds endless efforts

we will have to dispense with the
"enlightment" vision of
"controlling nature"
and return to a "primitive" understanding
of "reverence for nature"

the greater salvation envisioned by
the "environmentalists" of today
will have to be worked out in the
local concerns of people willing to
think about the wisdom "land wise"
people of former days who wove the
patterns of relationship between land
family farm community

the "sustainable agriculture"
and the "organic food" movements
owe much of their ideology to the writing
and thinking of wendell berry

and for this we must be grateful

a bedouin goes home

the song line winds around the mountains
and curves along the great divide
soars on tires of rubber
and the asphalt roads

and the road leads to a place
the nomad must call home
leads to the ancient song of david
the just tuning of the soul

the miles click away
and thoughts persist ignorant
of the miles
and all of a life wraps itself
in the stops along the way
and the only sweetness we know
is in the smile of a friend
in a song shared
in a new face
and in the gradual opening of our minds
to that which is greater than all our thoughts

every soul longs to know
the place where it is safe to be
safe to long
safe to give voice to
the stirrings of hunger

the events of the last year
have formed me once again
themes now intertwined
like the design of a persian rug
and all of life gives the tug
and all of knowledge leans, inclined
to clarity of truth through pain
the murky river soon to clear

the road is long

from cloverdale new mexico
where cormac mccarthy
set his border trilogy
i headed north
on long long lonely roads
beautiful roads
roads where i saw almost no-one

just north of sliver city new mexico
i happened past a retreat center
i slammed on the brakes of el toro loco
and drove up a steep road
and found fr rodney nichols
there at the gate
he let me in offered me a bed for the night
and from there i set out the next morning
for chama
where i found christ in the desert
and i stayed the night there
and fished the chama river
from there i headed north to denver
but made it only to alamorosa
where i took a motel room
and ate the next morning
a wretched breakfast which made me sick
the whole day
until i drove up to morrison
up turkey creek
where i connected with my ole pal Don
and his good girl Sue ( susannah)
they put me up for a couple nights
in a log house Don built
what great and sublime friendship we renewed
friends since 1970
when we were but 9th graders
hell bent on making the best
of our troublesome years

i fished the borders
i found little places to fish on the borders

i soaked in thermopolis
and then headed north
to helena the town where i realized
what life may be about

i made a brief foray
down to bozeman
and basked in the warm light
of ellen
and ate monte's great food
and held sonja all too briefy
in my arms

and returned to helena
where i learned what life
may just truly be about

just tuning of the soul

from there i set out for placid lake
and spent a few days with
my old friends the burgesses

more on that

then eileen and i went to soak
in hot springs

there i visted with Lauria
my dear friend

and then i set out for columbia falls
and spent an all too brief day
with my friend
with the one i love
mary

and i left here
which may have been a mistake
and set out for calgary
where i fished the bow river
with jack kaiser
a delightful day of no fish
but the scene was beautiful

from there i drove across the
canadian prairie
across alberta and listend to great radio
almost all the way to saskatchewan

i stopped in a little town
called DeLisle
which was founded by my
father's french canadian ancestors
and met there a lively woman
who took interest in me
and she showed me the town
and invited me and my family
to the 100th anniversary of the town
next summer

now i sit in the reading room
of st peter's abbey in
meunster saskatchewan

so much to fill in between the
stops

so many thoughts along the long
lonely road

i hear the sound of the great canadian
bards

tomorrow i head for st john's
a yearlong sojourn
about to resolve
in the flurry of sounds
at the end of the cadenza


anon