[with 3 poems by Scott Owens]
Which came first? Separate a few of the living creatures in the photo above and see what you can identify: the distinctive mottled leaf of Saxifrage; beneath it a glimpse of moss, its diminutive creeping green; a big hairy leaf, I should know that one but I don’t. Down in the damp there’s bound to be a little township of bacteria, waterbears, wormy things, arthropods.
And what’s that right in the center? A little stemmed goblet corroded like verdigris growing out of that patch of gray-green flakes (squamules)? Center stage – lichen, probably Cladonia pyxidata. Its tiny cup is pebbled within by extra lichen bits growing there (more squamules!) and some of the rough and powdery appearance may be an obligate lichen-loving fungus taken up residence. So which came first in this little community of many kingdoms and phyla?
Most likely the lichen comes first. It can hold onto bare rock where nothing else lives. It gathers moisture into itself out of the very air and how could a wandering moss spore resist? Anything drifting by may land and latch. Plus that little lichen chemical factory can break down rock so that others may use the minerals. Pretty soon a Saxifrage seed finds just enough earth to sprout and enough wet to grow and wedge its roots further into rock (saxifrage = rock-breaker). Everything discovers what they need; everyone adds to the life of the community.
What gifts may I add to my little community? A bit of cautious optimism and encouragement. An appreciation for all living things (OK, yes, that does extend to human beings, at least I’m trying my best). Appreciation of a good joke and appreciation as well of the folks who tell bad jokes. Curiosity and a sense of wonder. The world’s best recipe for Nutty Fingers.
We all need something but we all bring something. Who knows, maybe what I’ve got is just what you need. When one really gets down to it, all the stuff growing in that photo looks pretty haphazard and messy. Just like a real community. Just like life.
And if you know what that hairy leaf is, please tell me!
. . . . . . .
In the Cathedral of Fallen Trees
Each time he thinks something special
will happen, he’ll see the sky resting
on bent backs of trees, he’ll find
the wind hiding in hands of leaves,
he’ll read some secret love scratched
in the skin of a tree just fallen.
Because he found that trees were not
forever, that even trees he knew
grew recklessly towards falling,
he gave in to the wisteria’s plan
to glorify the dead. He sat down
beneath the arches of limbs reaching
over him, felt the light spread
through stained glass windows of leaves,
saw every stump as a silent altar,
each branch a pulpit’s tongue.
He did not expect the hawk to be here.
He had no design to find the meaning
of wild ginger, to see leaves soaked
with slime trails of things just past.
He thought only to listen
to the persistent breathing of tres,
to quiet whispers of leaves in wind,
secrets written in storied rings.
Each time he thinks something special
will happen. He returns with a handful
of dirt, a stone shaped like a bowl,
a small tree once rootbound against a larger.
Scott Owens
from Sky Full of Stars and Dreaming, Red Hawk Publications, © 2021
. . . . . . .
I’ve admired Scott Owens for many years, not only as a poet but even more so as a builder of community. Scott’s writing wields its openness, its wonder, its unflinching honesty to invite us to realize we are all part of one human family. As in his poem, Words and What They Say: the hope we have / grows stronger / when we can put it into words. Not only words – in everything else he does Scott is building as well. He teaches, he mentors, he makes opportunities happen for the people around him. Perhaps his poems are a window into why he values people as he does, and why he works so hard to make hope a reality.
Sky Full of Stars and Dreaming is Scott Owens’s sixteenth poetry collection. He is Professor of Poetry at Lenoir Rhyne University, former editor of Wild Goose Poetry Review and Southern Poetry Review, and he owns and operates Taste Full Beans Coffeehouse and Gallery where he coordinates innumerable readings and open mics, including POETRY HICKORY, and enlarges the community of creativity.
. . . . . . .
The Possibility of Substance Beyond Reflection
I didn’t see the V of geese fly overhead in the slate gray sky as I sat waiting for a reading in my Prius in front of the Royal Bean Coffee House & Gift Shop in Raleigh, NC.
What I saw was the V of geese presumably flying overhead in the slate gray sky reflected in the slate gray hood of the Honda CRV parked before me in front of the Royal Bean Coffee House & Gift Shop in Raleigh, NC.
And they took a long time to travel such a short distance, up one quarter panel, across one contoured crease, then the broad canvas of the hood’s main body, down the other crease and onto the edge of the opposite quarter panel before
disappearing into the unreflective nothingness beyond, where even they had to question just how real they were or just how real they might have been.
Scott Owens
from Sky Full of Stars and Dreaming, Red Hawk Publications, © 2021
. . . . . . .
Sharing a Drink on My 55th Birthday
Sharing a drink on my 55th birthday,
my son, his tongue firmly planted
in his cheek, asks what advice I have
for those not yet as old as I,
and I, having had too much to drink,
miss his humor and tell him
always get up at 5
as if you don’t want to miss
any part of any day you can manage.
Clean up your own mess
and don’t clean up after those who won’t.
Take the long way home,
hoping to see something new,
or something you don’t
want to not see again.
Stay up late, drink in as much
of every day as you can.
Be drunk on life, on love, on trees,
on mountains, on spring,
on rivers that go the way
they know to go,
on words, on art, on dancing,
on poetry, on the newborn
fighting against nonexistence,
on night skies, on dreams, on mere minutes,
on the ocean that stretches beyond
what you ever imagined forever could be.
And when someone asks you
what advice you have, give them,
as you’ve given everyone and everything,
the best of what you have.
Scott Owens
from Sky Full of Stars and Dreaming, Red Hawk Publications, © 2021
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
*** Extra Geek Credit — the lichen Cladonia pyxidata is host to the lichenicolous (lives on lichens) fungus Lichenoconium pyxidatae. Such fungi are parasites of their lichen host and mostly specific to a single genus or even to single species of lichen, but although some may be pathogens for the lichen in many cases the relationship is commensal. No harm done. Join the party!
Love this!! thank you!
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Jenny, as always thanks for visiting and making community. —B
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As a career biologist and environmentalist, I bow in praise of Scott’s beautiful, honest words that can only come from the heart. Thank you, Scott, for giving a voice to those things and emotions that have no voice. And, thank you, Bill, for sharing Scott’s words with us.
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Thanks for being part of the community, Les. See my comment to Scott Owens including the BIOPHILIA special exhibit (“Exquisite Creatures”) at NC Mus Nat Hist. It’s only up for about 10 more days — you MUST see it! —B
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Thank you for your photos and commentary! Thank you for your beautiful placing of some of Scott’s best nature poems. Coming just as I’m deflating from two days kayaking in Okefenokee.
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Ooh Joyce, wish I’d been there. I’m sure you encountered Pogo and Albert. And copious decorations of Old Man’s Beard (Usnea spp.) Thanks so much for visiting and sharing. —B
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Thank you, Bill, for the very kind words and for sharing the poems. We’ve started Poetry Hickory up again on the the second Tuesday of each month. I hope you’ll have the chance to drive down sometime soon. You can see the line up at poetryhickory.com. I love the lichen images. Here is a poem of mine in which I use lichen (punishingly, anyway).
Epitaph
beneath this stone
is an old soldier
still
trying to be
all he can be,
made immortal
not by these words
destined to be
well-lichened and mossed
or by anything
he ever was
but by what
he yet may be,
given time and not
too much shade,
a blade of grass
a green rot
a part of what
your boot stubs up.
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Thanks, Scott, I love the poem. Every day what we step on and trip over is capable of amazing. I love the poem.
We spent today in Raleigh with family at the NC Museum of Nat Hist — special exhibit, “Biophilia.” In the gift shop my son-in-law bought a little $10 LED magnifier and he, my grandson (4), and I explored the moss and lichen on the walls and walkways outside the museum. I think I’m in love with apothecia.
I appreciate your words, friend. Thanks for making community. —B
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What a treat, Bill, your words, Scott’s poems are just the thing to warm this frigid morning in the mountains. Cheers to creating community!
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Thanks for warming my day with your visit, Friend. —B
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Love your website, Bill. Always wonderful poems and interesting commentary!! Thank you for what you add to the poetry community of North Carolina and to the world!!
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Thanks for visiting today, Patricia, and I’ll hope to see you again this Friday on Earth Day! —B
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