Photogravure

What happens when you take a photo, a poem about a photo, and the interpretations of that poem and photo, and form a discussion about them? You get something similar to the old-school process of photogravure, only with words and images. Throw in some references to Tennyson for good measure. Understand more at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Wallflower

How often is it
that the smallest of things
prick us to the greatest movement --
the nettle spurs the dray,
or a seedling lives to loom
in oaken splendor.
Here a minor green urging
subtly speaks above the wood gravure;
we tune ourselves
to its sunward moment,
the dynamics of its song
invincible yet dying
all at once.
Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Lonely no more

When Wordsworth wrote, "I wandered lonely as a cloud," he wasn't quite considering the merry company of fluffy clumps I discovered when photographing clouds this week. How do we consider clouds, and how do we analyze what we see when we look at them? More on the words and images of clouds, at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Brushstroke

No imminent analysis
determines the import of this
delineation, this effusion
riding high above my eye;
no rule governs the hue,
constructs the variables
of the ascent into meaning,
into my point of view.
The wager of whiteness
against the paradigm of blue
is simply an offhand gesture,
created perhaps to say
on a smallish whim,
"Enjoy today;
what happens, will."
Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Tapestry

Carole King, The Statler Brothers -- we're bringing it all together, plus some great looks at the great outdoors in early January -- just to get you in the mood to rethink the beginning of the year. What is the meaning of a new start? Words and images at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Winter designs

Your glower
cannot cozen away
my need to mount
each fertile line
as it escapes my eye --
they should be blue as veins,
but they are red as valentines,
traveling up this steep ascent
defying the month,
defying their age,
febrile,
despite the brutal repulse
of the glaring rock,
light in color though it is,
though dark at heart.
Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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What time is love?

No, it's not just a song by the KLF. It asks how we look at the question of time itself, and how we love the time we have to spend, such as time just spent wandering in the woods. A recent end-of-the-year trip to the park with some near-and-dear ones inspires these meditations in word and image. More, at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Time in the woods

How shall I know
the hour or day?
All the old methods fail.
Shall I dazzle a stick
in a fragile pond
and see which way it ticks?
The pale soft moon looms on the glass
of the icicle shadow below
and forages high in the prospects
of trees rough-cheeked
with courage and berries,
bolder still with a rude little fellow
who barked at me,
what time is it?
Don't you know?
Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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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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