quoting you below i think its a pertinent question to wonder just how far down you will go to make this turn of events seem the fault of congress and not the criminal antics of your bossman and his gang -
you will certainly go down in history for this one, old boy
“Now we have a situation where there is an attempt to do something that’s never been done in American history, which is to assail the concept of executive privilege which hails back to the administration of George Washington and in particular to use criminal contempt charges against the White House chief of staff and the White House legal counsel,” said White House Spokesman Tony Snow.
sunday afternoon the fifteenth of july back home on this island the sounds of small aircraft and speedboats and lawn machines including my own electrically powered "weed whacker" -
(but i'm just trying to keep the grass back from the space we think we need - for the trash - for the recycling - to park the van - get to the pump - get to the compost - around the back door of the metal trailer built in 1956)
we dont have a garden - but the compost at least helps slow the speed our big green trashbin fills - the trashbill is long past due -
we pick the berries and the apples in the fall and yesterday laura made two arrangements from flowers and grasses and ferns picked here and there - in glass jars with beach rocks and sitting on the heater meant to resemble a fire - currently out of propane -
the electric bill is paid, and when it gets too cold we can heat the house with the oven and the oil-filled radiator that plugs into the wall cost 40 bucks and does a pretty nice job - besides, it's july and right now the temperature must be 85 degrees -
but i digress - i want to think about this meadow, again and how today i cut back the tops of some thistle to below its lowest flower or bud. i'd just learned that such a cutting does the plant in - it must be annual - though i'm no expert - i'm barely a novice - and the thistle that i cut were few - they'd been blocking my view of a pile of old and dried blackberry vines heaped to burn at least two years ago and now a regular part of this meadow - and deep inside, i believe, there are sparrows - cant burn it now so it stays -
now two ravens call and remind me why i came. barnswallows feed their fledgling babes perched on the pumphouse roof
and again, the ravens call and the swallows return - the thrushes song spirals between the two and and beyond - a red tailed hawk - fifteen minutes ago - brought in a cool wind and now both hawk and wind are gone -
here's that wind again.
24 july 17hr00
my friend fran often says to encourage the growth of what is wanted rather than try to eradicate what is not -
i think it is safe to look at this tree, a western red cedar, tipped on its side and still alive and ask what is needed to help it thrive.
wind knocked it over no doubt – and the himalayan blackberries and asian thistle surround it in the center of a field of blackberry and thistle and grasses short and tall with beer cans and tires lurking beneath the summer green and new construction promised -
this cleared field - should i dig up the blackberry and beat back the thistle? or plant douglas fir and red alder
now halfway along the trunk of the cedar its thick down facing branches - broken and slowly rotting – by decades lower the trunk to the soil – and branches are starting to grow toward the sky and yet just as surely the tree grows toward the earth
and here along the middle beneath the horizontal trunk a small cleared circle, unused growing in, where people used to come - you squat to get in, and there is the decaying remains of the bench seat of a truck, stuffing dried or missing - as you might find a carcass of a squirrel that's been hunted - its springs all rusted -
the cedar must have fallen in a blowing nor'easter the crown points southwest - at the base the wood is dying - but i wonder that cedars don't regenerate this way, root from a branch, like vine maple or kreosote plants in the desert – branching from a root that is more like a branch - true, what once was the rootball is covered in blackberry but the upside sprouts bright green.
between my hair and my spit and my blood and my piss, if i haven't left a seed in this field, i have left a sample.
swallows above the meadow between the porch and the water - i cut more grass around the trailer – raked into big rolling bundles so much grass – much of it taller than i am – and gone to seed. thistle thrives in places disturbed three pigeon guillemots race north - juvenile robins hide and seek in disguise - and now i hear a young loon cry. how can i uproot the berries and not the earth.
on a part of the question of how we might distinguish between that which has rights and that which does not:
well, one thing is clear any rock borrows nothing to be - which you simply cannot say of an artifact - always built from somebody's bones - nothing made from what wasn't - what is here – what is made is made with what is here - the question of how we treat corpses is the place in this world where our traveling thought and the beat of the earth coincide what is here was here. hear the nuthatch's tin horn and try to remember the last hummingbird you saw - what is made was made from the corpse of what is here. see the diatom dead at the bottom of the sea. the seas die. i see across the water i see the refinery at cherry point. ive seen kinglets and chickadees and sparrows collude. how often these tall flames from the mainland – we are the ghosts. you are a ghost. you are.