Showing posts with label Richard Hugo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Richard Hugo. Show all posts

Saturday, July 23, 2016

Vagaries of Habitat

Egyptian peasant farmers
The transition from human subsistence on foraging and hunting to crop farming communities began around 10,000 B.C.

Humans have been moving, tilling, diverting, mining, burning, fabricating, fouling and laying waste unabated ever since.

The agricultural revolution was born from an aspiration to exercise sufficient control over our habitat to ensure a predictable supply of food.

Human impact on the biosphere is often ignored, downplayed, or denied, but that doesn't comport with the evidence. Humans have a knack for engineering and adapting the natural environment to changing needs and desires.

In Plans for Altering the River, poet Richard Hugo writes of the human propensity to engineer habitat. Hugo explores the vagaries and absurdities of altering a river.
Plans for Altering the River
by Richard Hugo

Those who favor our plans to alter the river
raise your hand. Thank you for your vote.
Last week, you'll recall, I spoke about how water
never complains. How it runs where you tell it,
seemingly at home, flooding grain or pinched
by geometric banks like those in this graphic
depiction of our plan. We ask for power:
a river boils or falls to turn our turbines.
The river approves our plans to alter the river.

Due to a shipwreck downstream, I'm sad to report
our project is not on schedule. The boat
was carrying cement for our concrete rip rap
balustrade that will force the river to run
east of the factory site through the state-owned
grove of cedar. Then, the uncooperative
carpenters union went on strike. When we get
that settled, and the concrete, given good weather
we can go ahead with our plan to alter the river.

We have the injunction. We silenced the opposition.
The workers are back. The materials arrived
and everything's humming. I thank you
for this award, this handsome plaque I'll keep
forever above my mantle, and I'll read
the inscription often aloud to remind me
how with your courageous backing I fought
our battle and won. I'll always remember
this banquet this day we started to alter the river.

Flowers on the bank? A park on Forgotten Island?
Return of cedar and salmon? Who are these men?
These Johnnys-come-lately with plans to alter the river?
What's this wild festival in May
celebrating the runoff, display floats on fire
at night and a forest dance under the stars?
Children sing through my locked door, 'Old stranger,
we're going to alter, to alter, alter the river.'
Just when the water was settled and at home.

Hugo personifies water, writing water never complains and it runs where you tell it. The natural world seems to comply to the whims of the plan.

Los Angeles Aqueduct
by Jet Lowe

Despite our inclination to control, our most careful plans are subject to the unforeseen like a shipwreck downstream or uncooperative carpenters. Eventually it seems we must alter what's already been altered, "Just when the water was settled and at home".


REFERENCES

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Ever-Changing Clouds

Clouds drift in and out of literature as ethereal props, metaphors, and backdrops. Clouds appear in existential narratives that beget mythologies.
Sometimes I go about pitying myself, and all the while I am being carried across the sky by the beautiful clouds.
Ojibwe Proverb
Clouds portend darkness, add by richness contrast, and are harbingers of hopeful change.

Rabindranath Tagore suggests clouds have a cumulative quality that colors life.
Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.
Rabindranath Tagore, Stray Birds
Clouds appear to us as amorphous and ever-changing. Clouds are heavy. Clouds are light. They float in an out of our lives.
Tomorrow will open again, the sky wide
as the mouth of a wild girl, friable
clouds you lose yourself to. You are lost
in miles of land without people, without
one fear of being found, in the dash
of rabbits, soar of antelope, swirl
merge and clatter of streams.

―excerpt from the poem Driving Montana, by Richard Hugo
Cloud was one of 10 nouns given to students by Richard Hugo with equal helpings of verbs and adjectives, along with enumerated constraints, as a poetry writing exercise.

While counter-intuitive, Hugo's constraints freed the fledgling writers to use words like cloud as an ethereal medium from which feelings emerged.

The word cloud covers the many moods and infinite possibilities between the hope and despair.



Life would be dull if we had to look up at cloudless monotony day after day.
― Gavin Pretor-Pinney, The Cloudspotter's Guide

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