Friday, October 14, 2022

#WriteOut Day 4: When One is Challenged by a Ranger @WeirFarmNPS @Kless09 To Write a Poem from Words She Took Down, One Goes to Work.


In the tradition of Karen Romano Young, I'm doodling (digitally) to capture one scene a day (hula hooping, and STEAMing ahead). Ranger Kristin offered a list of words she heard teachers using at Weir Farm National Historical Park during our first day. She offered them to us and asked, "Why not create a list poem from the words -- so I tried to use them all. 

Coincidences

Plot it out, they say,

look out the window 

& strategize locally 

what we writers do globally --

engineered by scientific brains,

to creatively doodle 

with a bit of words. 


Let the tug-o-war begin.


The secret is,

at least in America,

that language is chemistry,

a critical link to the art of learning,

for getting STEAMy

amongst a species,

rambling in 

linguistic motion, 

multimodal re-seeing, 

& the literacy of our social endeavors.


I can’t help this walking – 

it’s the age thing,

the Big Bang surprise 

of athletic mistakes.

My sneakers say,

listen to your body,

slow your journey down.


But I hear Ger

walking Toward the Rising Sun.

Absorbing his rays of thought 

on a journey,

another coincidence, 

stepping ahead for insight,

for whatever grabs one’s attention. 

(this is negotiation 

with the outdoor world, 

wandering

meandering

of being open to being lost)…

whatever I find curious,

is authentic to an intensive life.


It must be funny 

watching me wobble 

with a plastic orb 

hooped over a shoulder, 


a circle of time

as if I’m an architect 

& activist of Eden, 

able to fill the gaps with 

dreams,

while trying to stay calm & centered:

observing, measuring, noticing

a place, this space,

& the geography 

of what is special.


I learn in layers.

I daydream.

I wonder.

Movement for happy accidents --

the interconnectedness 

of what’s below the surface,

& the simmering breakthroughs

of free-writing with 

digital paint tubes.

 

I’m an archeologist finding 

the self,

wide-eared and listening, 

thinking, drawing, storytelling, 

noticing, collecting, inquiring,

respecting, measuring, 

    & experiencing this senselessness,

trying to invest in something good.


I man environmental crisis,

a fragment of the technological overload of a digital world.


But I am outside

with the squirrels, nuts, 

using my voice as a life science, 

a windspeed mass 

on a curvy road

adapting to the Long Island sounds, 

trying to grow with paper

& pen, 

and engineering myself anew,

meta-dumb (…) ah,

overwhelmed by the ecology 

of growth.


Seagulls have perspective – 

world language spun 

with divine intervention 

& flight, 

sharing the sand, ocean, & sky,

as bobbing sponges

in aviary thought

upon this road I choose to take.


This philosophical la la la 

(blah blah blah)

is disciplined with symbols…

…and every day, there’s something new.


Happy people get outside…

stay balanced & bountiful

 in the reconnection

of relationships 

& the genius

of community. 


Sharing is innovation, 

and if I label it beautiful – 

its ingenious growth, 

a gravity of boundless energy,

 the physical science 

of a passion…

an ecosystem of students 

who are happy…

who teach one another 

with access and equity…

with hearts mind, & muscle.


Dynamic days do not let go, 

but get going,

creating better havens 

for monarchs, 

bees, & trees

(every leaf a hallelujah.).


~Bryan Ripley Crandall