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

view with images 2281,2280,2279,2282, and 2287 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.

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

view with images 2275, 2278, 2276, and 2277 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

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

view with images 2271, 2270, and 2273 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

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

view with images 2263 and 2259 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

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

view with images 2262, 2258, and 2260 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

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

view with images 2052, 2067,  2077, 2090, 2085 and 2087 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

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

view with images 2184, 2182,  and 2185 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

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

view with images 2059, 2070, 2223,  and 2224 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

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

view with images 2188, 2133, 2115, 2121 and 2117 from photos.amynelsonhahn.info or visit blog.amynelsonhahn.info

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