Tuesday, January 7, 2020

your spectacle your metaphor

The one time Moco cops hassled us at one of our three Moco creek ford party spots forty years ago (other two Hyattstown Mill Road at Little Bennett Creek, Ten Mile Creek Road at Ten Mile Creek) was Hoyles Mill Road at Little Seneca Creek, we hiked the Hoyles Mill Trail from the B&O bridge in Boyds to SoccerPlex and back Sunday past, an entire maze of trails from Boyds to Seneca Creek at Black Road Road bridge (and from there to Seneca Greenway north and south and Seneca Ridge Trail north and south) that we haven't explored, the fuck? Sunday's blaze

  • Not explored not because mococops hassled us on Hoyles Mill Road at the Little Seneca Creek ford and I never went back
  • Not explored because maze developed for and by cross-country bikers long after I regularly drove only to DC United US Cup games at SoccerPlex (this is true: forgive 
  • me, I saw a SoccerPlex light stancheon from the trail, I was getting my phone out to take a photo when phone dinged happily! mile and a half north I remembered) what a uniform-wearing chanting fuck I will always be
  • All three fords now closed to cars, Hoyles Mill Trail and Hyattstown Mill Road Trail now bridged over creeks for foot traffic
  • I've hit a wall, regular programming will return when it returns but for now I'm swirling in Gass' boxes within boxes, how infinity is as big smaller as it is bigger
  • Ten Mile Creek Road underwater, Little Seneca Creek dammed, Ten Mile Creek's valley flooded for reservoir, Billy Wayne flooring the dark green Dart to catch the cat, discovered a stile for a Ten Mile Creek Trail, another cross-country bike trail, 6.1 miles to Old Baltimore Road, next hike

cruel, cruel summer

D.A. Powell

either the postagestamp-bright inflorescence of wild mustard
or the drab tassel of prairie smoke, waving its dirty garments
either the low breeze through the cracked window
or houseflies and drawn blinds to spare us the calid sun
one day commands the next to lie down, to scatter:      we're done
with allegiance, devotion, the malicious idea of what's eternal
picture the terrain sunk, return of the inland sea, your spectacle
your metaphor, the scope of this twiggy dominion pulled under
crest and crest, wave and cloud, the thunder blast and burst of swells
this is the sum of us:      brief sneezeweed, brief yellow blaze put out
so little, your departure, one plunk upon the earth's surface,
one drop to bind the dust, a little mud, a field of mud
the swale gradually submerged, gradually forgotten
and that is all that is to be borne of your empirical trope:
first, a congregated light, the brilliance of a meadowland in bloom
and then the image must fail, as we must fail, as we
graceless creatures that we are, unmake and befoul our beds
don't tell me deluge.      don't tell me heat, too damned much heat


  1. photos -



  2. https://odoriferouszephyrs.tumblr.com/post/190141618404/sindri42-corvids-are-just-like-that