Untitled [I grew up in North Adams]
With wind chill, it was 40 degrees below. It was utterly beautiful. The hawk and the eagle not having flown there then (not) visible the prints are on the snow in bright glare. (Leslie Scalapino, Dahlia's Iris, p. 104)
I grew up in North Adams. The snow on the summit is thin, frigid no humans self memorial for the fallen soldiers expropriation this land I want to know why western civilization concerns itself with the individual, individualization elegy alone, elegy A way for society (power) to say, you are alone Realizing how the stone looked covered with a primordial lake During that time moraine deposits stone here from inner earth cataclysmic hard and shimmering no birds, it is much too cold Differing body types, different massive animals long necks animals here eating the vegetation, towering, they were reptilian human brainstem, reptilian, scat: dinosaur The way is the logging road state forest no one missing in history No women there were, obviously but missing Summer, no birds, missing Missing, was it acid rain? Inside the mind, the enjoyment body Symbols arise and text out here, this is mind Down now, off the precipice to a small white house, heated One's intrinsic awareness white light inside the refrigerator Vegetables waiting
Copyright © 2011 by Brenda Iijima. Used with permission of the author.
Brenda Iijima is the author of Untimely Death Is Driven Out Beyond the Horizon (1913 Press, 2015). She runs Portable Press at Yo-Yo Labs and lives in Brooklyn, New York.
Date Published: 2011-02-10
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/untitled-i-grew-north-adams