in this series, I will attempt to capture the aesthetic of a certain location through a combination of pictures and poems
this first installment centers around forest park in st. louis, missouri
I went here for a few hours without any direction, trying to capture the things that I found to be beautiful
these poems are unedited from the notebook in which they were written in order to better capture the rawness of the experience
I.
water - falls casually
of human hands those
drops were made -
natural or man
made?
I remain unsure
layer
upon
layer
all I know is that
we pool up
and
drain
down
until we fall
again
II.
grove falls with the conservation of angular momentum - a physical thing
the rest stand straight, do I find it a little sad? only sometimes because
I answer my own questions before I correct myself
III.
small scene like famous painting of the gentry by the lakeshore but it's more diverse here we have learned so much as we burst out in spurts of consistency and the children roll in the grass parallel to me. I am the beginning of the world I am unsure if I am the end but I ask you to bathe in me my friend
IV.
-fresh soil makes the grove a newborn
-old trees contradict this
-if the soil is fresh but the trees are old
-then it is difficult to name this grove
-it is difficult to name myself as well
-I want to go back into the ground
-I want to have a name
-dirt, but fresh
V.
spherical; metallic bust of possible forefather protects the water which I personally hold dear. does it need protecting some ask. there is often no reply because the fish below converse and snap up speech into little bubbles for us to see but don't get because we are focused on our own rippling reflection
VI.
beard like tentacles,
I worry about being
trapped inside a body again
VII.
unintentional mission the fathers (padres) we knew would be so proud if we told them the religion no! the spirituality of the world was so clear and some thought we were bullshitting but they were the heathens of our natural-born group. natural buildings pop up as you see fit
VIII.
beautiful to the eye, empty to the eye, eye to an eye; you see right through. I went to fill it with words but if that isn't enough I will try again until everything becomes absurdly clear and lift off into the sky and make it below us
IX.
what a strange
juxtaposition; parking branches
out like unseemly trees,
I want to make this ground
holy again, but people
walk-through
X.
hay bale sits
hay bale sits
hay bale erodes with the
rest of the earth as
this place someday will
hay bale sits here now
subversion of the trail
