Monday, April 16, 2012

Synthesized into Chirp

That's 23 deep at Seneca in all Seneca's Spring glory (holyfuck, truly, the dogwoods), my best four of the day cause it should have been three, fucking chains. I 36(clown-pin)3circle4circle5(both hit trees well right and rolled to inches over the rope)4343/344344433/453!34!3!33!3 and woot! used the goddamn Leopard off the tee but Beast forehand on 3, which by my count is 17 so I broke a hundred. That back nine, the first nine we played, someday I try warming up before walking to the tee, that last seven, as good as I am capable of playing, that second exclamation point for the four on the above hole, the third for a forehand roll on the second shot after I first-treed the teeshot, the fourth for the best S I've thrown in two years, the first because 21 was in long and it's the first time I've ever threed the long (and easily), plus.

I had a wonderful round of golf yesterday, my soccer team won the day before while - bonus! - infuriating me; Napoleon came home last night from a five day vacation last night  (I was thinking, how do I put out an rescue alert for a feral cat), I'm seeing Lampchop tonight with Earthgirl and Hamster, so I'm in good mood,  no direct scab-scraping or clusterfuck haranguing beyond proxying through links, instead enjoy another motherfucking unremarkable photo of my cat, this one Fleabus yesterday in our front window looking out into our ecstatically happy azaleas. Blame the photographer, in this instance, not Fleabus or the azaleas.


A.R. Ammons

Honor a going thing, goldfinch, corporation, tree,
       morality: any working order,
    animate or inanimate: it

has managed directed balance,
       the incoming and outgoing energies are working right,
    some energy left to the mechanism,

some ash, enough energy held
       to maintain the order in repair,
    assure further consumption of entropy,

expending energy to strengthen order:
       honor the persisting reactor,
    the container of change, the moderator: the yellow

bird flashes black wing-bars
       in the new-leaving wild cherry bushes by the bay,
    startles the hawk with beauty,

flitting to a branch where
       flash vanishes into stillness,
    hawk addled by the sudden loss of sight:

honor the chemistries, platelets, hemoglobin kinetics,
       the light-sensitive iris, the enzymic intricacies
    of control,

the gastric transformations, seed
       dissolved to acrid liquors, synthesized into
    chirp, vitreous humor, knowledge,

blood compulsion, instinct: honor the
       unique genes,
    molecules that reproduce themselves, divide into

sets, the nucleic grain transmitted
       in slow change through ages of rising and falling form,
    some cells set aside for the special work, mind

or perception rising into orders of courtship,
       territorial rights, mind rising
    from the physical chemistries

to guarantee that genes will be exchanged, male
       and female met, the satisfactions cloaking a deeper
    racial satisfaction:

heat kept by a feathered skin:
       the living alembic, body heat maintained (bunsen
    burner under the flask)

so the chemistries can proceed, reaction rates
       interdependent, self-adjusting, with optimum
    efficiency—the vessel firm, the flame

staying: isolated, contained reactions! the precise and
       necessary worked out of random, reproducible,
    the handiwork redeemed from chance, while the

goldfinch, unconscious of the billion operations
       that stay its form, flashes, chirping (not a
    great songster) in the bay cherry bushes wild of leaf. 


  1. As for the Hilltop/Washington Post student, I thought he was most courageous to tell his story.

  2. I agree w/you mostly, though there *is* a back story I'll tell you if somebody has a bbq (cause I'm not telling it *here*). Does none of the three - Hilltop/student/Post - flattery.

    Though my point in the link was to wonder what Fred Hiatt's agenda is/was.

  3. This link helped me in appreciating BDR's pick for poem of the hour.