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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