A breed apart

A pair of eagle statues at Skylands State Park in NJ inspires a reverie on the values and virtues of homeland success: what does it mean to hold onto what is yours? More thoughts and images on looking into 2012, here at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Memorial: on success

Wing craft,
shoulder set against
what past and future enemies
may demand --
each feather burden furnished
to a purpose, burnished
to a light-hard task.
Nothing is easy
to the tested arc;
nothing curves simple
to the proven pilot.
All is the ghastly
potentiality
of the feasible loss,
the hateful failure.
Every superlative mark
enshrines a deeper curse:
the will to prevail.
Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Blues traveler

A stained glass rendition of the madonna and child at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC launches a jazz meditation on the meaning of Christmas and getting outside yourself. Our final blog before the holidays and a short break -- wishing all of you a wonderful season of cheer with loved ones far and near. Photos and commentary at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Little clover

Leaves upon your head,
how we miss you when we dread
our last best hope.
Little clover --
won't you please roll over
without a grave
and tell us merrily
some thankful thought
that we can save until tomorrow comes.
Clover, clover --
we've asked your mother
where you've gone but she
said ask your father's best friend.
Love, I fear, is a fear
that's painted red.
Clover, soothe yourself --
ease, ease the time.
Your mother's here for you.
Now ease the time.
Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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The cattle are lowing...

Yes, the Herefords of Valatie, NY, are back -- and they star in their very own manger-side story: how is it that animals played such a prominent part in that first Christmas? Why are animals so much a part of ourselves? Great photos of these spectacular beasts, happy at the holidays, and commentary, at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Bovinity

There were cows
in the manger scene --
I am sure on that.
I don't know if they
were careful about their
sounds or of their unambiguous
but nonetheless distinctive cattle scent.
These things I cannot speak for,
their having happened long before I
or any other of you all were ever born;
but one thing I can certainly claim:
I know the cows are gentle,
and gently lowing creatures, and
may have added to that frame,
to that dear picture so ingenuous,
so pallid and so frail
it almost fails but most sustains
where it is weak, like animals' bodies,
limitless though meek.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Marley's ghost revisited

The capitol building on State Street in Albany, NY, provides some ominous and curious faces to take a look into the coming season: how do we glimpse into a man's soul? Is it with a checkbook or a palette? More curious questions and thoughtful images and words, at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Comicaria

How did you manage
to get yourself cast
for the everlasting age --
miracles of fate overshadow,
poor ponderances of lives,
so unlike yours --
but the creases and the valleys speak:
he was a man worth something!
how odd was that now, in parody,
your visage vaunts
according to the thoughts
someone or other once had held.
Quixotic, strange --
you'll never know how
two hundred winters tales
have held their changes
on your once illustrious shape.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Heaven and earth

Thar is no rose of swych virtu/as is the rose that bar Jesu. These lines from a 1420 poem inspire not only the poem for today but also provide a backdrop for thoughts about the magnificent Tiffany rose window and other beautiful features of St. Peter's Episcopal Church in Albany, NY. Photos and commentary, at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

There is no rose

Virtue beyond mortal grace,
and that grace begins with a lowly founding place;
roses are not strong enough
to build upon, but when
they guild a world
with faceted beams, that is a world
worth watching grow to fullness.
Thar is no rose of such virtu
as is the rose that bar Jesu.
Many lights come and go
but none so closely linger
as those we prize
most highly.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Dog day...

Frozen snow sculptures made by a Kinderhook, NY native inspire a meditation on the relationship between dogs and humans and the relationship between humans and the holidays. Thought-provoking commentary and photos of the artwork by Herminio at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Master man

You create me
in the image you best beget
time after time -- although
I am hurdling and longing
to prove you wrong,
I prove you right in every
last regard, engage my dignity,
my alignment with your needs.
Time along the ages, you and I,
we have shaped ourselves
along similar paths and somehow
grown to love the same courses,
same landscapes, the same shady spots;
I am time upon my lapse --
my time is short with you --
if I do not know you as a brother,
then perhaps we are something like.
Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Long ago, far away

Along with our Christmas theme, we consider the role of the angels at the birth of Christ -- how has this been represented? What can it mean to us everyday people who dwell in the ravages of hustle and bustle? Some comfort and joy to be found, with photos and discussion, at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

To sleep

If none have hovered,
none have wavered above,
who knows the fate
who knows what would have come.
A child cries in the night --
many may have heard.
But eaves of wings may interfere
and dampen all the word
and still surround like doves;
this they'll never let from
earnest issuance.
He is guarded and assuaged
by the muffled downbeat
and the faint occipeter,
a semi-soft perimeter,  --
at last he sleeps.
Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Glory be

The tree at the Metropolitan Museum of Art spurs thought and insight as well as some beautiful photos. Images and text along with the narrative of how we absconded with the purloined photos at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Gloria

How often do we behold
the gentle myths of old,
carved out for us plainly
and close enough for us to reach?
So delicate, they teach us
how to be careful with each other;
so painstaking in their design,
they impugn us not to be cruel.
To make us marvel is within the license
of good art, and sustains
the higher dignity
of man.
Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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'Tis the season

And we have a reason for so many of us who dread the cold to find solace in the approach of winter: there's glory in the little things, the subtle sharpnesses and boldnesses that make the season special. Like red berries piled suddenly in the shape of a tree, like green rushes suddenly transformed by snow and ice, winter enobles even the wild of the outdoors -- think what it can do for the human best in us? Words and images at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

December, mindful

As we climb into this month,
mindful of the absence of its light,
mindful of the little days,
it is cruel to be abrupt,
cruel to be harsh in any way --
it grates against our wind-parched skin
and chastens quite unfairly.
Let us be kinder than ever before
when we are most enclosed.
The ice on the limbs along the road
should melt our seasoned tempers,
each to each, and carry
warmth to our gray souls.
We should rise about the ends
of frost-smoke tendrils
to making better worlds ahead.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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A wild thyme in the Catskills

Evelyn Waugh once wrote that in a place we have loved we should bury a little bit of gold. It seems that in certain places that are well loved, many joyous reminders spring to life -- not just in springtime but all year round. On a visit to the Catskills home of Hudson River School painter Frederic Church, we find a scenic spot and also wild reminders of the blessings of rural life. Photos and commentary at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Implacable

Can we meet here
in a few short years,
just to see if the place has changed?
I for one doubt very much it will.
I have nosed about these hills
for most my days now
and found them somewhat implacable,
even abrupt in their refusal
to be altered:
curiously, I would venture
that something small will still remain
of our last visit here, some
fragmentary remembrance will
catch hold and grow,
will yet salute us when we return.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Core issues

We revisit a few of our favorite places -- at Olana, again -- and a few of our favorite images, but with a different twist, looking for new insights and searching for a few edges of perspective. What are our central issues? What brings us together, and possibly, what drives us apart? Look at these images -- study them -- and consider the musings alongside. blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Bones, akimbo

I cannot help
the necessity of this:
I believe in centrality,
that as beings we loosen
and loan ourselves toward
a restless core.
You must disabuse me of it,
if you can, or else learn better
how to stickle less aggressively
against it -- fight me not.
Limb yourself to my arching.
Bones grow lovely when they
shape themselves accordingly.
Never interest for the time --
it passes of its own will;
and we will sure outlast it,
stems and all.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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High and mighty

A cupola above the walk attracted our attention, but once Andrew and I got a fair glimpse from this Victorian house, we were sold: amazing neighborhood, amazing stories, amazing views of the Hudson as well. Thanks to our new friend Jennifer, we got a grand tour of a gorgeous period home and show scenes from the perch. Photos and commentary at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Hudson walk

Can you see their leeward
side from here, my soul? Can you see
their colors?
The ice is coming fast
and mist is thick
as a new dollar,
just not so bright.
If faith could walk
the ten thousand thousand
steps I've laid
between supper and this perch oh soul
he would know the berth of sleep
will never come until I've set
my careful eyes
on that stray boat.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Dream another dream...

High on the Hudson, Olana mesmerizes and when Frederic Church was called away each winter, he must have felt that he was leaving his greatest love. Celebrating the majesty of the Catskills, the Hudson , and painterly beauty in photos and in words, at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Hudson memoire

You appeared to me,
just over the rise
as in the milky glaze
of a dream half recognized
through the glaze of lace-curtain
memory skein
and long-awaiting eyes.
How could I forget you?
Outstretched and captive,
no longer remote as you once were,
I sensed the web between us
thicken and draw close,
the tide around us gather
and sustain.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Green thoughts

There is something about the lush lush greenness of a deep dark forest of pine trees -- the tall, invincible stillness of it -- that makes us ponder the firmness of our humanity. How long have we really been here, anyway? perhaps not so long as we often like to think. These forest views give us some much-needed perspective on ourselves and our way of being in the world and with other humans if not other living things. More on photos of trees and a story by Native American writer Sherman Alexie at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Majesty

How far we have to go
most days these days
before we can rest our eyes
on anything like these
towering pines.
When we see them --
aching and arching
their spiny spires
deep into the realms
of mountains, the realms
of eagles, we catch our breath.
For a time at least we feel quite
simple and quite small in substance,
when standing thigh to thigh
with these green beasts.
We doff our hats, wipe our eyes,
and ascertain the difference
in years, the difference
in kingdoms.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Change is good

When the leaves change color, the birds fly south -- sound and image, inextricably linked, inextricably complementary, the animal kingdom and the plant kingdom intertwined. At Thanksgiving we are at a crossroads -- a season of changes. Photos and discussion at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Knowledge of change

Fairly crackling
in the dry November
wind hastening south,
like the droves of birds
lighting from the lake
each frost-astounded morning with their
ceremonious series of haranks,
these sifting trees are silent,
only rustling and wrestling
a bit with their inward maneuvers of colorings --
now umber, now vermilion,
now goldenrod.
The same fires, breathing within them
yearns in the wings of those flying legions --
turn. You must be quick about it.
And so, they vary onward,
adept and diversely they are called,
fundamental
as a stone
wearing its mossy side out
against the water's bale.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Mixed media

The forest floor in Saratoga National Historic Park, NY is both coniferous and deciduous -- a mixed forest floor -- which is great for the wildlife of the region. A little discussion, some photos, and meditation on the meaning of mixed media, at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Forest dusk

Lush composition,
armed with scaling tendrils
writhing underfoot
swirling like squirrels
amid the swift discussion
of the needles and the leaves --
it's possible a lark will light
here, or a doe will soundlessly
hasten its fawn to sleep.
In the dim and dusk,
the shadow rusky softness
of the earth-bound forest
the dispensation of the oaks and pines
gathers color, shores up light,
protects the denizens of the night.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Revisionist history

Is it possible that autumn is just as much a season of renewal as springtime is? Think about it -- the bursts of color, the gathering of the harvest in all its abundance. It's a celebration of life all in its own right. Time to give autumn its due. We're in the orchard with glowing photos and rolling commentary, at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Autumn revision

The wreath of leaves
you sweep undying
at my feet --
I cannot turn away
but space to cherish
another day.
Golden mead gathers
hanging low and rakishly
yet I bow my head
for none other.
Sweep my soul
clean from this rounded earth;
leap with greenest pleasure
to the endless change.
I cannot loose away
these last poor tidings
but save to cherish
a coming day.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Full circle

Art in the age of mechanical reproduction is not without its joys and its challenges. We have here seven still shots of an eagle flying over the lake, seven in a series categorizing its pattern of flight. Visualize, imagine, and consider the possibilities of zoetropes, the camera obscura, and the works of Eadweard Muybridge. Words and images at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Zootrope

If we were turning
in a perfect cambric
circle -- you and I
cut out of sky
like God's own missives,
jet like letters
countered against the rest --
if we were auspices
sent to tag the vastness
into shaping a formality,
we are doing our best;
with each gesture alluding
to the next, creating semblance
of totality.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Into the woods

Hunting is one of those issues that divides a lot of people: is it right or wrong to hunt overpopulated creatures like deer and black bears, which can be a nuisance to humans? We visit the Mighty Moose river in the Adirondacks and observe some hunters at their task while pondering the question. Words and images at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Pursuit

Flak-footed
gray as grim
to light less
upon the crisp furze --
hardly hear it crackle --
in the steaming distance
there might be a flash
of feather or tail.
How to limp that
buttress over one shoulder
without firing a charge
and hobble home,
should the morning prove
an utter rout?

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Seeing double

Every once in a while, I go back to an image and find a whole new way of looking at it and writing about it. This shouldn't be so surprising; after all, writing is a process, and all writing is really re-vision. Thinking about this, along with some discussion of Francis Bacon...words and images at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Uno momento

Broken and stemmed
as the functionless base
of the delft-blue
Caravaggio,
there is no pink in you,
no life, no whelp
of joy --
in seizing your spartan
limb I capture
only the harsh bronzed
emblem of a bereft moment
I thought I had left behind.
I see it follows me like
 a shackle on one foot,
like a bruise
that will not heal.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Ancient and modern

Every which way, and no one is sure which way to go. It's sometimes difficult to negotiate the chaos of modern spaces, like the mall, just as it was probably difficult to negotiate the chaos of ancient spaces like the agora of Athens or the labyrinth even. Some of us have better tools than others, and we can help those who have less means. A little holiday thinking, some photos and commentary -- blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Agora

Every
which way --
I don't know where to go.
No familiar sign points
the direction of home,
and here only callow leaves
frank their minion paths
and never offer true assistance.
In more modern places,
there is a similar loss
of locational nuance --
where am I? which way
have I come from just now? perhaps
it is best to follow a trail
that's left in twine or to lay down in the center
in a sheaf of ferns
going at all directions
so that upon waking
I may pluck the nearest one
and follow only that
to safety.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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If a tree Falls in the forest...

What creates the magic of the trees in fall? Is it their colors or the fact that we will miss them when they're gone, that we miss the green of summer? Exhibit A: four magical photos of fall in the Adirondacks, almost as if they had sprung from Dutch paintings. Read and see more at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Tree magick

No one told you
to hurry up and prepare the way --
the time comes when
the time comes already,
and you are merely
in the right place,
by chance or by design
no one's the wiser.
A mountain whispered
in my ear that you
were late to bed and late
to rise; is it true?
I'd have to say that you
put up for all appearances
a pretty nice front --
the even-tempered sort,
the kind of honest sport
one likes to get to know.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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(Snow)Fall before winter

You mean snow before winter? Snow -- not frost -- on the pumpkin? Snow before Halloween? Yes, that's just what we had around the Hudson Valley of NY. Some photos of the fall foliage with snow on the ground should be enough to convince -- sometimes the seasons do meet in strange ways. More sights and sounds at blog.amynelsonhahn.info, and happy halloween!

Felded wise

Who knows how long ago
it was the snows came
so fast so early,
burrowing their felted mitts
their tilted spirals
and endless spiky gyres
amidst the coppers and glares
of half past harvest?
It lilts our insides just a bit,
to see it so transcribed --
the seasons so rudely
overlapped
like amber
resting astride
an ancient vein,
treasured
yet oddly contained.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Piece of mind

At the side of the railroad tracks, a thousand milkweed pods send silky reminders that winter is coming -- is it really that long ago that we started this blog? Yes, we've done two hundred blogposts now. Time to reflect a bit, with the help of W.H. Auden. Photos and commentary at blog.amynelsonhahn.info, and a big thank-you to all our faithful readers!

Sail
(Milkweed clouds)

Like vespers on the breeze
that have a silent mission
to find the one whose heart
their message most will soothe,
they loft and gather height
and drift, perplexing a child
who sits alone and seeks to lift
a humble hand to douse one
like a flame --
still they wander, light as flies,
and toss along the evening's
sultry skies until they pivot,
sense the climate's best arrangement
and down fall seedlings to their repose.
So like whispers in your dreams
they've walked a thousand miles
before you've said a word,
and that so hastily
you barely catch its breath.
Their message will most please
and drift, to prepare us all
who dream alone
and rest in humble hands,
the only peace that's left.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Framed

What do a covered bridge in Old Forge, NY, Father Mapple's sermon from the film "Moby Dick," the final chapters of Edith Wharton's novella "Ethan Frome," and the belly of a whale have in common? More framing than you can shake a stick at, as it turns out. Photos and commentary at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Redoubt

No cathedral
eye or vestal --
at the end was only
light or deepening dark
depending
on the time of day --
slatted like the eaves
of a fishes' chest;
built and rebuilt
year after tiresome year.
There was no use
in holding out two minutes more
under the knotted haws
that seemed to laugh at me,
creaking in the breeze --
I would forget but the pines
reminded me balancing
my fears against my
staggering regret.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Three of a perfect pair

How can we discover images that are very similar, and yet very different? What do they have in common, and what sets them apart? Perhaps it is best if we try to understand them as a group, as a set, and make them function as a unit of understanding, rather than segregating them according to differences. In this blogpost, I show a conglomeration of images and what binds them: a railroad journey, a poet and a photographer, a color scheme. Then there is thematic work to do. That becomes the work of ekphrasis. More at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Leader of the pack

"Ask the man who owns one": that was the advertising slogan that drove Packard to fortune, because these cars became the emblem of status, class, and style. At the Ballston Spa antique auto show, we got a close-up look at one restored version, and examine how the love of Packards demonstrates a little about the American dream; words and images found at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

A beautiful thing

There he sat,
eyes unfocused
yet particularly fixed
on that craning silver pixie
his wife could never drive
from his mind --
she danced in his dreams
it seemed until one Friday
there she was like a long-lost
relation beckoning from the road;
on a sultry afternoon her iris
cheek shone like the bloom
of his own invincibility,
and she seemed to move
if only in the aggrieved manner
that the beautiful
indelibly leaves its mark.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Badlands

Too bad so many of the long, cool cars have been disappearing from the roads in favor of shorter, gas efficient smartcars. Here's a little poem/song and photospread dedicated to the cars of yesteryear and the wonderful feelings of grandeur they inspire. Partially motivated by the Ballston Spa, NY antique auto show/partially motivated by rockabilly great Reverend Horton Heat. Words and images at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Ford feeling

I just have a bottom feeling
that if I could ever tame you
if I could somehow own you like a toy
somewhere in your metal-housed heart
you'd take more care of me than any human boy,
my long ass Ford.
And a girl can love the city
and a girl can love her tomcat
but one thing she can't reclaim
is how a girl can't quite replace the love
of her long ass Ford.
Day will come I'm sitting pretty,
I won't need you anymore;
I'll be driving a Mercedes
or some Italian badass black imported front-of-the-line sportscar.
But one thing you'll never damage
is my once forever love
for my long ass Ford.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Auto class

Who has the sharpest fins in Ballston Spa, NY? We try to find out with the latest photo and blogspot, with shots of classic cars galore -- find out more and read the source at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

New York nocturne

Images of a train and its passengers at night light up the imagination -- how is it that people who are all seemingly on the same trajectory can be moving in such different directions? More considerations of the art and poetry of night at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Long slow rightness

Sometimes it is hard
just to stand so patiently by
and wait as evening turns
its grimmer shades
and then puts on a fairer face
and livens into night --
how do I know what will come
around the nearest bend,
or what these day-bright lights
can render in the misbegotten
hollow space they will leave behind,
as sure they will in their slow
forsaken trajectories?
They discover me out
only for a fraction of a frame,
but it is long enough --
I am pinioned
in their rightness,
stand up straighter,
eyes to the line.


Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Waiting at the station

What is it about trains and railway stations that makes us think about life? Why do they so often bring out the spirit of the blues in people? Tom Waits wrote a number of great songs about the train yard, about where a person comes from and where they're going -- thinking about some of the same things here in Schenectady on a blustery, bluesy day. Photos and commentary at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Rail divide

Griddy girl,
lost along the wide divide,
I can't measure how many
passes of this pen between me
and your hummy clutches,
cluttering down the rail,
lost before you're ever quite
out of sight.
We'd whisper to each other
far beneath the smoky sky
that no one would miss us,
plump a cattail underneath
our heads and go to sleep,
a whistle
faintly distant.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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One for the road

A group of photos taken at the Schenectady train station in New York gives rise to thoughts of hitting the open road and running away from relationships gone bad. A little background music from Janis Joplin, and you have a perfect afternoon's escape. Blogpost and photographs at: blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Horizons -- Schenectady
(for John -- who loves trains)

Murk and stillness
govern, and in lieu
of goodbyes I would proffer
only a few terse words
to help resolve my endless
need to compensate --
for what?
For the loss of boundaries?
for an empty handshake,
cold before my hand even leaves
yours and grips the valise?
Never have I felt so
fallen into being, never so
imaginary, obtuse, and
purposed through.
My fare takes me not
halfway far enough
away from you,
not almost within an inch
of room to spare.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Pit stop

Sometimes you just want to stop for a quick bite to eat -- even photographers and poets get hungry! And road food? Not always the best. But in Schenectady, NY, you can look up First Prize Mike's for a great hot dog with their "special sauce" and some hot onion rings -- getting hungry yet? Photos and commentary at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

No dilemma

It's hard to know,
will the "finest ever made"
forebode that magic brand
of American delight
that snaps pleasantly
like the lightest rubber band
against your eager teeth
and tongue, shooting juices
and spices, now a tender mix
with such joyous cohorts as slow-seasoned
meat gravy and grainy mustard --
ketchup has to wait its turn
for the devilish crunch of incalculably
fragrant and steamy vat-fried onions --
or will this yield an afternoon
fit for the Bromo ads?
Oh, First Prize Mike's,
your special sauce never steered
us wrong.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Shout out

Inspired by a barn? By a band? Find out how Paula Carino and the Markov Chains of Brooklyn, NY, and some photos of a falling-down barn led to an outpouring of emotion by your own poet. Photos and blog commentary at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Epistolary

Why do you try --
letter you --
to cajole me with the sentence
when nothing more than fragments
keeps me at bay?
This is divine,
this crossing, unmet yet intertwined,
and I see it nightly
when my curtain swings
like a vampire in the breeze.
How do you get in?
I always hate the little spaces
underneath lost tribes,
lost letters, lost feelings,
lost embankments of
solitary trust --
but how do you get in,
when no one welcomes you,
and still manage
to resonate hope?

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Transportational devices

Ever been on a trip to the past while you're standing in one place? This can happen just by visiting a location that feels familiar even though you may never have been there before. An old falling-apart barn in upstate NY leads to some crucial thinking and some "devastational" poetics...See photos and read more about the transport at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Useless pride

Backed down
like a Herzegovina nightmare,
it slips through slats
and suffers nothing less
than the slightest devastation.
Was it me in its poor cracked
pane or was it poorer vision?
I see the hairs I cut
still jagged and denying me.
I see the fragments of the last meal
pinned like kindergarten victories
to my working skirt.
Slats take cover, gray,
and founder in the night.
They hoard the sounds
of pestilence and pain,
and sort the weary from
the truly wretched.
When am I, farm-fronted,
and where am I and my
useless pride?

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Love at first bite

You can't unbite an apple -- I'm sure that's what Eve must've thought. But it's very true. A little meditation and photoplay on the desire for forbidden fruit. Pictures and commentary at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Not of that tree

Is it true?
was all our simple sweetness
thrown aside to find
what possible pearl
lay beneath your stalwart skin?
Could we have seen within,
and known the deeper woes --
the tillage of the fields,
the shuddering of the grower
if the rains come hard or light --
we should have famished at the sight
or moved on in dumb design.
But so the story folded
and took that sin again;
no merchant sealed it with a coin
yet the soul of peace was sold
leaving only diffidence within.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Not far from the tree

Over at Golden Harvest Farms' orchard in Valatie, NY, the dwarf apple trees are now very heavy with fruit. We have a number of photos of these same trees -- spanning their cycle from February into late April in full flower up to now at the harvest -- and it makes for an interesting comparison. Experience their growth with us, and read more about the Farm at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Return to orchard -- harvest

The former forces
that delved your smooth
protuberances up rooting
toward the blue beyond
now abandon them to their red
globed fates -- they wait
pendantly footed and
what once was an upward-arcing,
skyward-stretching sketch is now
a fledged-out canopy,
realmed in earth and driven down
to compose a heavier,
deeper perfume,
looming low
and no less fragrant.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Once upon a yearling

It's that time of year -- when you may catch a glimpse of deer in the woods, sleeping off a recent meal on a bed of soft pine needles, staying as warm as they can, waiting for the change of seasons. They seem so peaceful -- it's hard to imagine that this is also prime hunting season. Photos and discussion at blog.amynelsonhahn.info...

Respite

Even in the frost of knowing,
these are warm --
the deer hasten
to relinquish their small blessings
and capsize languidly at last
on this forest floor.
Bitter winds are chastening,
days are sloping gracelessly
with the last green glints,
but under nests of nimble
thickened sheddings,
there the yearlings huddle,
even in the thick of days,
even in the auspice of preparing
for the hard frontier ahead.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Turn, turn, turn

How can you get a hydrangea to change its color? Funny you should ask, because we have all the details, plus photos and commentary on the change of seasons and the role of flowers in wedding lore. More at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Flora cambia

Sweet chameleon,
changeful as the year,
the rosy crimson
just tinging these vessels
is all that mourns the summer,
all that's left of their former
royal crush of
passionate magenta.
Autumn sweeps its brush
of subtlety and scathes
color from flora,
delivering swaths
among the woods.

(c) copyright Amy Nelson Hahn 2011
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Our eire is up

Welcome to the Irish 2000 Music and Arts Festival in Ballston Spa, NY -- we've got music and photos from contemporary Celtic rock bands Seven Nations and Gaelic Storm. Bagpipes, fiddles, this is where it's at! Photos, commentary at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Song (for Gaelic Storm)

Mandolay lo lyre,
unspoken choruses
go unchanted rather sung
round unearthly fire --
all cast together,
an unbroken spell --
Mandolay lo lay
we'll never tell.
If a bow string falls
mandalay
If a shrill voice quickens
lay lo lay.
If you call me beggar
so much the better
to cherish my welcome
one sweet day
Mandalay...

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Myth congeniality

This tree branch...well, Andrew, sometimes to me, it looks like a raven. Or maybe even a lizard. That's what happens when you enter the realm of myth time. You start to see things differently. The Schaghticoke indians have their own way of looking at it -- find out more about them, too. More photos and info at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Totem, Schaghticoke

Howt! I stare
into your fire eye --
both bird and reptile,
scales and feathers shaking
glaring out of time
into the transit of recovery.
Haumpt! I dare
to breathe again
and the imaginary
of your several selves
turning in the north wind
unfolds and burns its purpose,
sharing space with my prayers.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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By any other name

When is a rose bush just a rose bush? Well, certainly not in this blogpost, where the flowers take on a life of their own. Discussion of making meaning through ekphrasis and some lovely photos of multiflora roses, at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Ramble roses

Cousins toward the fence,
nothing purples like a poke
from your thin fingers.
Rosaline hue,
though you are overdue
for bramble shirring --
enough of all this
rampant fleuring;
you pique and parson
off the lot.
What? Twenty-four of you?
It overfloats the cottage
with a boulverse of corsages,
each leaflet nimbly covering
each sister leaflet's folly,
each reddened cheek a hush
and a pensive glance,
a turn along the avenue.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Sacre bleu

Blue -- okay, maybe not known as the happiest color. But it certainly can be productive artistically. And thought-provoking. A "blue mood" in photographs may convey some warm sentiments...find out more at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Blue

In your cadmium double,
equally liquid,
there is the trance
and sentimental wandering
of my dearest eye --
calm where it is calm,
divided by the dark expanse
I cannot marginalize
of often quite traverse.
Located cross this yearning world,
I find my mirrored soul;
abreast of the wide divide,
a blue that echoes mine.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Pigs is pigs

Four legs good, two legs...well, not so tasty, we hope. Andrew shares some photos of the pigs at the Columbia County Fair, but I add some thoughts as to the awkward relationship between a pig and its own deliciousness. To be continued, at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Animal farm

Such ill manners
and yet such lovely
pink ears --
no wonder all the young girls
adore you so,
even though
you root in the muck.
Everyone needs a rumbler
to stir things up a bit.
Hard to wear out such a
fathomless welcome
as a maiden heart;
but everyone does know --
bacon is tasty of a morning;
and crisp.
Maybe in another life
you'll be the king presiding,
passing judgment
on sweeter injustices
than simply
being good to eat.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Fleeced again

Is a ram really "ram tough"? Or is it "soft as a lamb"? Can it be both? Looking at the Rambouillet sheep at the Columbia County Fair, we consider the possibilities. Photos and discussion at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Argosy

The fairness of your eye
belies the barbary mettle
churning behind its kind resolve;
and each curlicue swirl
of carapace declares,
you won't be tampered lightly,
though your fine garment
breeds gentle fortunes.
The delves and furrows,
the deft chenille
that girds your flanks
decries your martial image
with the pale softness of its whorl.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Entre moos

At the Columbia County Fair in Chatham, NY, you can see young 4-H'ers proudly display their prize animals, which are sometimes cows five times their size. But is it hard to raise an animal from birth and then give it up because it has been raised for sale to breeders or for food? Today's blog considers these thoughts, with some captivating photos, at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Bonding

These are the eyes
that pulled mine out of the stable
trance that held your mother
shivering in the stall --
when you arrived you were all
I could see or raise a thought
to care about.
Now big and brown and fine,
you strip me of the willingness
to harm any of your kind.
I lead you down this dappled lane
and it seems a league of shame,
though I'm so proud of you --
and I acknowledge our bond
must be severed
in the end.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Talk to the animals

An interesting aside: two of Chatham Alpaca farm's denizens having a little "confab" across a fence inspire some questions about the nature and content of animal communication. Photos and commentary at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Always greener

Does it shamble
after amble where you are?
Does the thin protruding foil
of tinctured leaves
meet your feet with equal
propinquity?
or is it only me who trembles
just a bit where greenness
tills the grass?
It should be familiar
as the skin we're in by now,
but sometimes when the dew-slugs
slicken in glossy rows,
and the glow slinks low past the furze,
isn't this a delicious place
to be alive?
Is yours so green as mine?

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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From Peru to you

A visit to Chatham Alpacas of Chatham, NY, leads to some thoughts on the raising of exotic animals and the cuteness of large ruminants. For some special photos and discussion, go to blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Transplant

It grows cold here
part of the year;
and at times the sweet grass
is almost golden
with sudden sun --
it strikes across the field
at such an angle.
And it feels easy,
almost natural to run,
the trim Hudson breeze sifting
aimlessly over silky spun
September coats.
How odd and yet
how perfectly at peace:
you never knew Peru.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Pump it up

A lot of New England is still fending off the floodwaters of Hurricane Irene. We share some images of the rising tides and some thoughts on a few words President Obama might like to share with the residents of Paterson, NJ, when he visits. Photos and text at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Persistence

Much in the way
a slag stump
stands in the tide
and will not give over;
much in the way
the sharp-angled jet
of a wayward stone
takes years to overthrow
with courses of whet and billows
of white thrashings;
like these our haggard days
lash themselves to the mast
and chide the storm.
We furl and thicken
in the christening wind,
and will not give over.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Amazingrace

Somehow, it seems almost inappropriate that it is always so beautiful to look at the world after a major storm. But despite the damage and devastation, the challenges of cleaning up, there is a freshness and a newness already imbued by the weather and the water, not to mention the collective efforts of people shouldering together to do their very best. For some amazing photos and more thoughts, read blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Benign

Credible signs
partition the air,
and we consider them fair --
delight, in fact, in their light
espousal of a point of view
outside of our own.
There is rain,
and then the sun
creates this magic act --
surely that's all it can form
after all that's been borne.
Rivers dash upon the rocks,
slap us naked upon the tree,
and still we howl for more,
because in the end
it was for the good.
The waters deepen --
all that's left is mist,
rising and cooling
credible signs
all for the good.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Road warrior

From a "dip in the road" that's a lot bigger than a "private cul-de-sac," today's blogpost takes you to a spot outside Johnsonville, NY to survey some raucous road damage left by Hurricane Irene. What makes people turn daredevil when a natural disaster hits? Think about it and see striking new photos at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Fraying

I

When the ends sweat out
and nothing else is left,
carbon keeps for no man --
this road is a toothmark
on navigation's ear.

II

Can't you hear me
boss? We can't drive here
anymore.
Look at the imprint;
like a scuddy maple leaf, it is,
or the curse of half a mind,
I tell you, it's not right,
it's not.

III

You serious, man? See those trees?
They went right under there,
started their own team.
And now; I mean it --
nothing is left, man.
Tooka bearchunk right outta roadhide.
But when the ends sweat out
and nothing else is left,
where will you be glass for me --
it's fraying up in here --
all the words are wrapped up
in one cord --
this would be you.
Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Somewhere down that crazy river...

Scenes of Northern New Jersey -- the Ramapo River -- at flood stage -- a little barge, wrecked upon the isle. Hurricane Irene did a world of damage: did we underestimate her power to hurt us? Take a look and think about these questions at blog.amynelsonhahn.info -- yep, we're baaaack!

Wrack

upon the shore,
just the last passing
vesicle and vestige
of a remaining leniency.
Nothing is spared
or gained anymore
by looking here
at a cubist demise;
only a brief entanglement,
only a ferrous-flavored
acknowledgement --
a bit between the teeth
of distraught --
the true power overtakes us,
makes us matchsticks
and leaves us on these rocks
for all to see.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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The surreal thing

C'eci n'est pas une flowerbed. You have to look a little bit below the surface to consider the meaning of today's poem, but the images are visual/verbal jokes everyone should find amusing. Think about them in the context of surrealist painter Rene Magritte and American poet legend Emily Dickinson. To view and read more, visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

How did you find me

You laughed
when I told you there were
flowers in my bed,
but there's nothing strange
or contretemps about it.
I simply woke one morn
with pansies in my hair,
and a bold earthworm
called hello between my toes.
Now I nevermind the loam
or the errant busy bee --
it is my pleasure to roll over
and plant my cheek
where clover yearns with dew.
And you thought it funny
but the flowers just appeared --
I swear. One morning
they were not, and then suddenly
they were, as if
it were nothing new,
just a little trick
they had played on you.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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The color of money

It seems that the fruits and vegetables at farmer's markets always look so much more appealing than the ones at the local big-box grocery store: why is that, you may ask? They're just so much more...colorful! Some thoughts and notes on this phenomenon -- read and see more, at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Bright fruits

Color is the cruelest plot
in nature's enduring foil --
however lustily it chides us,
maidenly, to table,
but with a sprig of spring
behind its ear to show us
all is supple, recent,
plum, and good --
color is the cash upon the deal.
Ask any grocer, any
ad-man; color is
your wary jade of wares.
Color sets the store
and sells it, rich as
Midas without flourish,
without glint.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Floral attraction

Who says flowers are just for girls? The flower market at Kinderhook on Saturdays attracts all kinds of interest. In today's blogpost, I think about spatial relations between flowers and their placement in paintings, conceptual art, and the sunflowers of Van Gogh. For pretty pictures and more to read, visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Spatial proposition

Prove to me
that the proof
of a confounded circle,
misaligned by points
within a faulted square
is not a false degree --
how can we reconcile
my daisy with your
sometimes-awkward box?
Geometry eludes us,
that's for sure -- put pen to paper,
don't trust me -- but follow,
we paint a picture
and conscribe a scene;
if you love me certain, opposites
need not be despising;
prove to me that shapes,
though divergent, in fact
do juxtapose.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Green days

Here we are at the Kinderhook Farmer's Market. Yep, Andrew and I have a lot on our plates, and some of it is super-fresh produce from this fabulous market. Here are some photos, the first of a series, and they even feature a few of our very special friends. Read and view more, including unrehearsed political commentary, at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

 Farm's own end

Like live anarchy,
people arc about
and come to spend
on beets, on spinach,
lettuces, on flowers,
preserves --
this is unheard of.
Why would anyone
wake so early in order
to spend a little more?
I have polled
the peaceful droves and,
buy to store, they tend
to side with quality in
small quantities.
I could swear I heard
a thunderstorm of a Saturday,
threat to spoil our spoil,
but it must be clear blue sky.
Like live anarchy,
I live by the by,
the most to follow through.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Walk before they make me run

So many breeds -- so little time! It's our last blogpost from the Bennington dogshow, and we're meditating on the nature of the relationship between dogs and the people who work with them and love them. Also, some words about dog handlers -- a noble profession. See and read much more about it at: blog.amynelsonhahn.info

End of stride

I hasten
to clip my felt paw
to your moccasin stride
so that fur-to-sole
we might align;
this is what you ask of me.
I can do tougher things,
such as find the very last
unprotected vole
by the sheer scent of his thoughts.
I can pen all of the sheep
before dusk settles over the
purple streams that ford your dinner plate.
I can be rowdy and rough,
cerebral and mild,
while never an inch from your heart,
and always a step at your heel.
And the times I tire
I rest to sleep
having worked in courage;
I take some ease with pride.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Before the fall

Meditations on some wonderful relationships with animals, one very special Samoyed named Bear in particular, and thoughts on whether the divine souls of the animals we love live on. Words and images shared at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Smile at last
(for Bear)

Hard to recall
the many awkward moons
we slipped in and out
of snowy streets --
where you used to be sure-footed
the intervening years had come between
and all we could manage
was to amble brightly along,
white against white,
hoping you'd rise again
unimpeded.
Now it's never so easy
to smile at half-hearted
smiling shadows,
or at a world so green,
the sun so precise
that only their thin resemblances
can find us pleased with you
once more.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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High standards

Do you know how they judge dog shows? Here's a little insight, and some up-close photos of the whippet competition (that's an English breed of sight hound) from the Bennington County dog show, plus some thoughts on the aesthetics of perfection. Read it and see it at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Chancing on perfect

Is it something
in the eyes that makes
me blind to the worst of faults?
Is it the noncommittal curl
of the lip that gives me pause?
As much as I have measured
so much has she eluded me --
I will never know her
by method means,
but rather by stark negligence
of careful trial.
She will let herself be found
as in a dream,
where perspective vanishes
galloping over a hill,
and time defies all balance,
censuring designs of order
and proclaiming the dawn
of happenstance.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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In black and white

A classic American breed, the Boston terrier is the subject of today's group of photos and discussion: these black-white-and-brindle favorites made strong contenders at the Bennington County Kennel Club's 37th Annual All-Breed Dog Show on Sunday. See some of the best ones, along with their charming handlers, and read more details about this excellent breed at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Boston

Stand your ground:
you have earned it.
You are a little old man,
defying the neighbors
in your black-and-white pajamas.
Who ever skinned a poodle
and gave you a bigger heart?
Was it a fire or a robbery
that made your dark eyes blaze
and start from your skull?
Who pulled your tail
so much that wore it out,
but never raised a growl?
Still you stand your ground
and well deserve it;
the blood of bulls,
thick yet under your hide,
denying that you snore.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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It's a dog's life

Where can you find 127 different breeds of dogs including this one -- the Pharaoh hound -- which dates from 4400 BC when the ancient Egyptians brought it from Phoenicia? At the Bennington County Kennel Club's All Breed Dog Show, which was held Sunday, and where Andrew took lots of great photos. Read and see much more about these amazing breeds at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Anubis

Ears at jet point,
never a moment lost
between the ancient set
of your hard brow to the task
or the now-pronounced vetting
of a prance around a ring --
it is the thing, from ages, from Asia --
all your cells align
in a rosy tinted arrow
penned in such a line
as to exonerate itself
mightily and justly,
thrusting itself lordly,
ears at set moment,
never an instant gone
from counting the rabbits lost
or rabbits won;
most characteristic
of Egyptians, your profile,
games you to the finish.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 2033, 2032, 2037, and 2038 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

You'll never get me alive

Tales of some errant wild turkeys, told through photos and poetry -- read it if you dare be challenged and amused. Beginning tomorrow: live from the Bennington Dog Show.Pooches amany. Visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

The most awkward moment

The most awkward moment
is not when you are poised
to ask someone for a long-awaited date,
or when that long-awaited someone
on that long-awaited date has
sauce on their chin all night long
and you are afraid to say a word,
lest you break the spell;
it is not when you fail to make
the best performance of the month
reports, and then find out that all your
employees recommended you
to receive that particular honour --
no -- the most awkward moment
is when you leave the proverbial nest,
safe in the sense that, at age one and a half,
you can always return, but then you find:
damn and a half! It's a new world!
You could breed and grow but that
would fairly require
threats and minds
Unlike your own.
That's when you start to remember
how nice it was
before that awkward moment.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 2007, 2008, and 2009 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Pecking order

Why do birds fall out of the sky...no that's another song. But the birds in today's post are in big, big trouble. They just don't know how to behave. They're house finches, and they have a nasty way of teaching us the not-so-favorable side of being human. Read and see more about this consternating issue at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Vapid thoughts on birds

It is not
that one is so much alone
as the lonely witless notion
that one could be together
and still not miss one jot
the effortlessness of being oneself --
that is what compels the concave breast
at last to clans,
to abandon a private bough
on a forgotten scape.
How is he brave,
how is he cindered
with the staves of piney wandering,
when all he concludes, in sighing, is,
one more?

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1998, 2002, 2003, and 2004 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Water babies

What do watermelon and cabbage possibly have in common? Well, their lovely green and round exteriors, for one thing -- but for another, a great nutritional profile and a humble heritage. Savor some sights of these delectable fruits and veggies, and read more about their bond, at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Cousins, parlaying

Such glowing globes
not yet for the salver,
not yet for the soup,
these celadons beckon
and long to be enfolded
by the gentlest caress
of mouth and spoon.
A smidge of salt,
so little sweet needs to margin
in the balance of these perfect
natural commodities --
sinew and liquor,
these baste and brew
individual unctions,
verdant with promises --
the past was never bitter, they construe,
what comes next will croon
the sugar from your song.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1988, 1990, and 1992 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Green goddess

Ahh, summer vegetables -- aren't they gorgeous? Aren't they the tastiest of the year? See some of the most adorable of the lot, as they poke their noses out of boxes on their way to market at today's photospot, and read about how vegetables -- especially summer vegetables in season -- make everything a whole lot nicer: blog.amynelsonhahn.info, brought to you again today from J. Aiello Produce in Albany, NY.

Belles d'ete

Reach one hand --
smooth and easy, live,
along the rising side
and catching in a mouthy groove --
perhaps a snip of prickly burr,
just where the fruit grew closest
to the root.
Look how these actors were:
they fashioned themselves for you,
and arched their nimble shoulders
day upon harvest day to strive
into the picking
so you should like them better
with your wine;
now reach for them
endure their lithe forms;
cajole with them,
before they slip away, laughing,
and almost entirely forgotten.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1985, 1989 and 1993 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

History shmistory

Avery special composition to the photographs of a large produce scale urges the consideration of the American obsession with measuring, some thoughts on Melville, and some observations on immigration: to see what other ideas hang in the balance, read and view today's blog at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Pensando

Land, land,
you have portioned out your life
these many years since ships,
since decrees,
always with the weight
of urgency cropping at your spine.
Colors fence your crime;
if you don't salute, on land
it is a capital issue
but at sea you are more free --
only blue and more blue:
who can tell
a person what is more
or less?
what is reasoned and what
is best?
Land, land
you are a deceiver by points,
by halves sometimes,
by colors,
by all that's right.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1979 and 1995 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Supply side

Today we are at J. Aiello and Sons Produce Wholesalers in Albany, NY, looking at the geometries of shipping and storing fresh produce supplies before they reach restaurants and other food retailers. It's interesting to see how things stack up. Read and see more about our friend Joe Aiello's company and the business of stacking pallets at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Geometry of labor

The broad and convivial
currency exchange
of thick flat pallets --
arriving with food, with fruit,
with flowers of earth lifted with itinerant strength
on seeming toothpick tethers --
they voyage round the world
supporting endless supply
and making no demand
but that you mind your boots,
and do not crush their shells:
like mollusks they withstand
a furious range of swells
only to be scuttled
by an errant sole.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1978, 1983, and 1984 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

A horse is a horse

Ever see a bright blue horse painted with roses by the side of the road? You can if you're in Saratoga Springs, NY; and you can see lots of other painted horses that are part of the town's ongoing trademark public art display. Read about these fabulous ponies and see some photos at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Horse fancy

Sky inside divine,
a rose pointed at the hip,
wingless fury
windless canter --
a pantomime
celebrated end-to-end
in deep design.
No tail breeze
can ruffle a stamp coat
or furrow an ocean brow;
no anatomical muster
surpasses joint by joint
the artful prowess
of a inspired calliope steed.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1965, 1973, and 1969 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Time after time

From the vantage point of a doomed love affair, this romantic poem is as much about the charming Victorian hotel where it takes place as it is about the central pas de deux: photos in today's blog feature the famed Adelphi Hotel in Saratoga Springs, which dates from 1873. Read and see more about it at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Encounter

This is where we'll meet,
you and I, not casually
but cheek-rosy as if
the fetid pointed hearts
hung outside the veranda
could tell the truth
like little words hung from hotel doors --
while inside speaks, I'll show you mine if...
This game we play
alone on perfect sunlit days,
how old it grows,
and still how young we seem.
Throw a shade --
now the dim, now the lamp
invites a wayward secondary
thought to love where love
had thrown itself too much into relief.
Pretend, pretend
and shadow subtleties
my eye can only hide
and determine to forget.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1966, 1968, and 1970 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

A change of pace

Lions and horses and mineral springs -- oh my! There are a couple of elements to today's photo topic, cenetered on the lovely town of Saratoga Springs, which entered its heyday in the 1850s with spas and thoroughbred racing. More on the architecture and history of this stylish place at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Felix rex

Four paws athwart
disaster, challenging man
and maker, gruffly firm --
this bustle-burb
stoked on the flow
of genial waters
tweaks the nonexistant whisker
of its surly antiquarian
protectors: it's horseflesh, only
horseflesh drives this town, not lions' pose,
imposing as it is,
and thought to dare;
no one could care much less
for cats where just a mile
from their recoil are turf and grass,
the spring of silver trumpets
bursting fillies, foals
from intrepid ease
into the midday dry demesne.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1960 and 1959 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Women in love

Why do girls like horses so much? At Saratoga, the picture is clear. We take a look at some generational bonding over thoroughbreds, and some stabs at answering the age-old question. Words and images located at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

New blood

If they had said
it would be so big
you might have believed it --
they say lots of things,
and some prove to be true enough.
But this heaving, sweating beast;
scary, aloof, and cross --
is this what your battered pink toys
are meant to resemble?
Hold the hand
that protects you from harm,
until the day arrives when suddenly
you can reign up at large,
determining hand over hand
how far it is to fall.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1940, 1941, and 1943 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Hard work pays off

It's Saratoga Racing season, and Andrew and Amy are at the track. This blogpost begins a series including photos of Sunday's Race 2 winner, Erin Enchanted, and some background about her. Read and see more about Saratoga this week at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Determination

Maybe it is easier
to pick a number
or a name --
in the pricking heat
my eyes pore over
your rippled mercury flank,
your memory bank of journeys won
their critical pass and distance story --
I can nearly feel the bones
disseminate through their
launching points,
far off at the imminent gate:
will you make six furlongs
at the front?
can breeding and feed
charge your reckoned heart
 to will the unwieldy encumbrance
over the line
just one more time
to glory?

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1946, 1944, and 1947 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

The root of the matter

A tree covered with burls in Central Park gives rise to a discussion of rebirth, a friend's pregnancy cast business, and the business of making your mark. There are great photos and a full treatment of today's poem at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Burlwork

Bubbled and burled
like a curdled mama's
grim execration,
still this is only mirage --
the deep cut blinders
of hurt we apply from youth
to shield us from quite growing up:
Why not thick humps
plastered over with bark;
why not a great clump
impossible to excise
without harming the root?
These are signifiers
of making-your-mark.
If we deny them once,
they may vanish like the oasis
at dawn, but if they go, so goes all
that might have sustained us.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1933, 1932, 1929 and 1927 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

To prefer or not to prefer

Mind over body or body over mind? An age-old question, revisited through a discussion of some photos of readers and bicyclists in Central Park, Melville's Bartleby the Scrivener, and the Coen brother's dark comedy, "Barton Fink." Read and see more about it at today's blogpost, blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Bartleby at noon

Seeing them angle past --
the trim, corpuscular forms
of women, men
lean with vim en bicyclette --
they are leaning far too close.
And the bend of the spine
in this book will not accommodate
their passage any nearer.
How can this be any more than clear?
Can a person be let alone
to enjoy a simple read,
a glance along a page or two
before the world intrudes?
That's all we ask, you know --
the microcosm
in which brain and text
voluminate
and beat like rapid hearts
flora and fauna
inviolate.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1935, 1918, 1920 and 1934 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

No bed of roses?

Ever zig when you should have zagged? Yeah, we all have. Maybe you were led down the primrose path? Discover the origins of these phrases in today's blogpost, along with some interesting photos taken in Central Park and a personal salute to a great couple. Read and see it at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

If you mean

If you mean
for me to follow you
indefinitely, I am unsure
as to the zigzag sign
that governs my only will
and sets astride your
flowerpath dream of leaving
everything I know behind --
does greenness make the world
so easy? so carefree?
does summer make us
ransom our last hope
of self-sufficiency?
I see no primrose,
yet I'll follow.
If I am betrayed, none
is to blame but lonely ones
like me who tread this path,
and worse for wear,
allow.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1909, 1911, and 1910 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Line dancing

There are actually pictures of people in today's blogpost, so be sure not to miss it! Discussing the Public Theater's Shakespeare in the Park at the Delacorte Theater and the politics of waiting in line during hot summer days. Meet you at the blogsite: blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Waiting for Shakespeare, Central Park

As the mists of Olmsted's visions
swirl around your feet
you wear them bare
in summer gladness --
oh, that heat!
This is not the kind of line
that move or breathes;
not even the most book-mavened
and socially -- you wouldn't say
elite but maybe thoughtful
at the least, considerate of lines
that you could ever meet,
despite intolerable degrees.
The prayers of city fathers,
the balms of the great Bard
embrace some aspect of your wait,
and you are peaceable,
find some shade, and
before any trouble,
hesitate.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1906, 1916, and 1937 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Freaks

Astounding! In today's blogpost find topics from Tod Browning's 1932 film "Freaks" to Djuna Barnes' Nightwood to the biblical story of Zacchaeus. What do they all have in common? Read about it at blog.amynelsonhahn.com and see some photos of an interesting tree in Central Park.

Crooked tree

Bent earthward
like a kneeling devil,
all your proud top
is like to come undone
and scatter to the crowd --
who made you humble?
who forced you to bow down?
Such ungainly displays
are fit for circus tricks
and uncomfortable angels
writhing on the ground.
Hapless and untoward,
why can't one raise you
to respectful height
unless, shirking here, you prefer
the wizened level?

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1907 and 1908 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Feline intuition

On the blog today are some remarks about a neighbor's cat, Mojo, and a famous poem by Christopher Smart -- as well as the rhetorical strategy of anaphora, Winston Churchill, and the legacy to the Beat poets. All that, and photos of the cat! Look for it at blog.amynelsonhahn.info
Today's poem is:

Idle feline, momentarily

Ever eager toes
now stretch wide in a yawn
as comfort smiles on you;
no snickering prey slips by
to mar your fine repose.
The whiteness fair licked clean
of daily troubles, the vigilant
eyes half-shaded, recondite
and only lifting partial ears
to laud my lowest footstep --
you remain the warrant foe
of erstwhile voles
who lose their bearings on this lawn.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1903, 1904, and 1905 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Whole lotta Monet

To see some gorgeous photos of waterlilies on the lake at Kinderhook, and to read some commentary about the work that Impressionist painter Claude Monet rendered to his famous triptych between 1915 and 1926, look at my blogsite: blog.amynelsonhahn.info -- you can also find information about the Nelson-Atkins Museum's exhibit which runs until August 7th, 2011 featuring the Monet Waterlilies. I hope you enjoy today's poem.

Solemn passage

Liquid lotus,
dare we pass
with least resistance
from your meshy tendrils --
how to disturb this glaze,
this blue tranquility,
this green reform
shaped like hearts
because they mean to do us good?
We stare, impossible
to lift the oar, to ply
another inch that would unearth
or faze in the least
these jade and jasper
lily leaves.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1887, 1886, and 1888 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Captive audience

Based on a reading of "The Tale of Genji" by Lady Murasaki, the rather "courtly" tone of today's poem has everything to do with the power of flowers to captivate and seduce our imaginations -- in this case, the humble but no less than magnificent water lily. You can also find on today's blog information about water lily conservancy and how water lilies grow. Check all this out -- along with more great photos -- at blog.amynelsonhahn.info. Thanks for viewing this page!



Serenade

Bashful,
hide behind a vain fan
suggesting you never seek
and never hunt,
I have seen you in the night --
gleaming, framed with beams
of paleness and indiscreet.
Unsay your shy damask,
since I have seen the moonsilk
slivers of your best disguise
undone.
But only say you'll turn
and kindly phrase my own demise;
I'll stay awhile.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1881 and 1884 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Awareness

A brave new world -- of water lilies, japanese philosophy, mono no aware, and photography. Please visit the blogsite blog.amynelsonhahn.info, to find out more.

Tempted

We are so close
now, ever so near --
your silent skin
laid bare like the snow
of birchwood flesh.
You can't decline
to let me reach this once
and have what's mine.
Shallow, shallow creature,
bathing your ivory glow
outside my perpendicular --
I fear, as we drift away,
that none of us
will ever be the same,
or underestimate
the remonstrance
of our parting.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1861 and 1877 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Lunar landscape

For some musings about the moon (mostly mooning over some beautiful photographs Andrew took of the moon over Kinderhook Lake very late one recent evening), see my blogpost at blog.amynelsonhahn.info. There is also a link to a great song, "You Cage," by the Throwing Muses. Here's today's poem:

Old Moon

Who else knows you're there,
like a hubcap
like a kneecap
like a nightcap
swirling circles incessant
indiscriminate, overwhelming?
And I can't abide
your chiding eye --
my heel cracks down
on the dull kitchen floor,
heel toe heel toe --
it seems to thunder down below
yet no one wakes or disturbs.
Overwhelming still and though
only you and I can hear it
we are nothing now,
wilted fragments
of our former selves,
sieved through clouds,
debilitated by increasing day.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1862, 1863, 1868 and 1871 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

First Impressions

To read about things like Impressionism, Imagism, and, oh, I don't know, my sister-in-law -- go to blog.amynelsonhahn.info for the complete blog and photos that go with today's poem, "Lila." Thanks for reading! And for following up...

Lila

Strength betokens promises
and all are made aware --
nothing is left uneventful.
Crimson velvet curling,
all the fall unfurls
like peels of apples
cradled in your hand,
too sweet to release.
Gold in the western sun
and burning in the noonday wind --
fire at heart determined,
fast unburdened,
lifting your head, regretful
but not without
disdain.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1851, 1846 and 1848 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Inner workings

Read this post in tandem with the blogpost and photos at blog.amynelsonhahn.info, for more details about the beautiful sunset it refers to and the origins of the word "inscape", attributed to poet and philosopher Gerard Manley Hopkins. Inscape was also the name of my high school art and literary journal, which, by no small coincidence, was supervised by my great mentor, John Ianacone. His photographs, in part, inspired me to write this piece, even though it is based on some of Andrew's fine photographs of sunsets in Valatie.

Skyscape

The burnt-out etching
of the base, base landscape
cannot draw my mind
from the eloquent estate,
the silk-sewn sky that floats
and catches every instant color,
every sampled possibility
the eye can imagine
in its most drifting thoughts
and haphazard dreams.
It hardly seems appropriate
that here, amid this almost-vision,
I should capture days of praise
at half-night, far beyond its random
center in my line of finding,
far beyond the fluid, loose, prismatic
haunts inundated once
behind a plaint facade of light.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1838, 1837 and 1836 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

The great provider

This post, in its entirety with commentary and photos, exists at blog.amynelsonhahn.info -- please look for the full magilla there. It is, in case you have not figured it out, about corn plants, waving in the summer breeze...

The golden kingdom

Germ of the rain's
deep prospects, folding
just one gentle bend
over their treasures
like cranes, stooping
to tend green and
unsteady nestlings --
these sheaves unearth
the hopes of hopeful
planters and drive
the desires of animal and man;
though silently and steadily
they merely arch their backs
nearer to the sun
to regain their kingdom,
regarding no one.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1831, 1833 and 1832 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Missing persons

Look for this new post regarding images of the cornfields near Valatie where Andrew and I live, at blog.amynelsonhahn.info
In it I discuss music from Jack Logan's massive compilation album, "Bulk" including "Chloroform" and "15 Years in Indiana" and Pico Iyer's concepts of weirdos vs. eccentrics.

Sixteen years

You say it so often --
I almost think you know
it's true:
how bodies end up discovered
in cornfields
after the corn is due.
This is the price we pay
for knowledge of unseemly things --
suspicion.
The sky is an endless
chemical slate of variables,
colors slung along a spectrum,
bearing greater analysis.
None of us,
none are above suspicion,
so take it lightly
that this is the price we pay,
when the corn grows higher
and you say it so very often.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1822, 1824, 1826 and 1827 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Toute la rage

Find details about the statue I am writing about in this poem -- along with thoughts on the Victorian obsession with fern collecting -- on today's blog, located with photos at blog.amynelsonhahn.info
I really hate to keep directing you all to the other site, but I know you can use your thumbs and toggle between pages if necessary and if you happen to like this one better as a homepage.
Also, if you visit this page you get to find out exciting newsflashes such as this: our book is out and available on the net! Yep, you too can be the proud owner of "What Time and Tempest Hold is True." Just visit amazon.com or one of many other fine internet book dealers, and look for my name and the title. Andrew and I hope you will enjoy it as much as we enjoyed producing it; we're really happy with the way it turned out, and are busy thinking up plans for another one.
Now, back to today's program, "Toute la rage."

Fairy, forgotten

A fairy, or angel --
some white overpale
winged thing
casts listlessly
one good eye --
the other lost to time's
infernal polish --
casts such a care-worn eye
you would think the grasping ferns,
the uninvited ferns
beneath her celestial ruined stance,
would cower and lay low.
Instead they tempt
to tease her, rise
to tickle her very alabaster toes,
merciless against
her hard renouncing stare.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1821, 1818, and 1819 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Wish you were here

Find my blogsite at blog.amynelsonhahn.info to see the beautiful photo of hibiscus flowers that Andrew got in Hudson, NY, that goes with this poem! Thanks for reading the blog...

Bower

So far from aloha
but still a greeting
unmistakable from a nearer frond:
scarlet mouths that lisp
almost imperceptibly,
sheltering a verdant word --
about the abundance of rain,
or the plenitude of sun.
Whispering welcome
and pleasantries,
these half-mute trumpets
are gathered about the gate,
declaring the season a success
with gentle gestures,
each one attuned
and infinitely delicate.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1811 and 1815 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Graveyard shift

Today's poem is based on photos you can view at blog.amynelsonhahn.info. Please see this site to fully appreciate the context of the following poem.

Winnowing

If they are lost
let them be lost;
because in this cerulean place
they have become secure.
How are we to ever say
what happens past
the bone and the saw?
How are we to contemplate
the nearness or the possibility
of their stones, their grass, their calculated
motions of the night or of the dawn?
None of this is meant for us
to know or to contrive.
We only bear the semblance
of some characters who, amiable
enough, and kind, regard the sky
and pitiful, remain below.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

view with images 1804 and 1806 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Today's poem -- 1st installment

From now on, I'll be bringing you a poem every day or every other day or so, and then offering a little bit of commentary on it. I will try to make the blog background match the image associated with the poem, so that you can readily follow what I am talking about in the poem. I hope this works. I'm going to give it a try today, and we'll see. If not, and everything goes FUBAR on me, please resort to blog.amynelsonhahn.info for each day's blogpost. Thanks.

Brushtale

Blistering
roll back your vines --
none of us can cramp
in this heat beyond shade
of the two arbored hazel trees --
if we could nestle there.
Only stillness and and potential venture
aspire us white and high,
high as flight and dreams;
no one taints our cares
with umbrage or reluctance.
Nothing quits our growth
with half-whispered airs --
severating
in willingness our divide
we stand apart.
We lack forgiveness,
and flaw to fall.

(c) Amy Nelson Hahn 2011

Ok, better hang...

I think I am getting a better hang for blogspot so what I may try to do -- if time permits, and I mean IF -- is to drop a photo onto the main page every day to accompany the gist of what I say in the poem of the day and then add a little bit of extemporaneous commentary. Sound fair enough? It will probably be a lot of extra work, but hell for an extra audience share, it may be worth a little extra so who gives, right? Anyway, it turns out that blogspot is a REALLY unforgiving program when it comes to manipulating text and images. But enough about my problems as a former artisan of magazines -- you want to know where you can find the poems and the photos RIGHT NOW! At least for today, they're at blog.amynelsonhahn.info; perhaps tomorrow I can direct some of it here as well, depending on how ambitious I get (or how rowdy you make me feel -- c'mon, blogspot! pay me over 25 visits!). Well, sight-unseen, I don't know how you regard poetry and images mixed together like peanut butter and chocolate, so we'll just have to wait and see...all my thoughts and praise to those of you who have similar projects, and await similar news of your fate with the masses -- And BTW, my book -- that is, 15 of the 100 copies of it, arrived today by parcel post. Looks gawgeous. I will provide the links ASAP.  -- ANH

First Things First

Here is the first blog on this page at blogger. I am hoping to follow up by writing more, but we will have to see how the link works. For now, I will tell you that the best bet, until I figure out how to upload photography onto this site, would be to follow me on blog.amynelsonhahn.info -- on this site I will try to keep you posted about further insights, and about what I am doing there. Also about what is going on with the book, "What Time and Tempest Hold is True," which is now winging its way to an internet site near you (and to my doorstep -- as in about 100 copies of it!) My dad already laid claim to the author's copy so I had to buy my own -- sad, really. To have to buy a copy of your own first book. But Andrew and I are very proud of our "firstborn." And so here we are -- another day, another new chapter. A brand new blogsite. Hopefully you can all follow the links and visit me at blog.amynelsonhahn.info, or at the websites, amynelsonhahn.com or .info -- for now, I'll say au revoir.