A couple more pieces of feedback for the Zeke Book:

Devious Diva, in comments on this post, says:

I just finished reading Walking with Zeke and I am bound up with him right now. Overwhelmingly moving at times but not sentimentally enough that I couldn’t read on. I reached the end full of tears and of hope and of nostalgia.

Zeke will forever be with me though I never met or knew him. This is a book of love that transcends who or what this love is about.

Thank you for showing me what is possible…

Thank you, DD. I’m so glad it spoke to you that strongly.

At their best, book reviews approach essay status, and our Theriomorph has posted just such a short essay — a very, very flattering short essay — about Walking With Zeke on her blog. A brief excerpt:

[I]n this book, a whole arc emerges: not the whole story of Zeke and Chris’ bond, or Chris’ loss, which is finally private and unknowable by another – but the arc of loving, and letting go at the end of a beloved’s life. Imperfectly. Against one’s will. Bereft. Loyal. Enraged. With devotion and care for the gifts given and received. With final, speechless loss untouchable by platitudes. With, in the end, graceful familiarity.

If you haven’t bought a copy of Walking With Zeke already — or, what the hell? Even if you have — you can get one here.

April 9, 2008

Genesis

This was the separation between dark and light.
In the beginning there was just a blinding field
A blinding beauty there, in the beginning days.
In the beginning there was nothing but the snow.

In the beginning there was just a blinding field.
No one dared to cross the field, an endless waste.
In the beginning there was nothing but the snow.
The snow fell endlessly. It covered everything.

No one dared to cross the field, an endless waste.
There were no people then. There were no animals.
The snow fell endlessly. It covered everything.
There was no sound aside from the unending wind.

There were no people then. There were no animals.
One day the snow began to gather to itself.
There was no sound aside from the unending wind.
The wind herded the snow into a monstrous mound.

One day the snow began to gather to itself.
The earth exposed and bare beside the drifted snow.
The wind herded the snow into a monstrous mound.
The wind herded the sky-white into billowed clouds.

The earth exposed and bare beside the drifted snow.
The earth stood willing then to take the wind-blown seed.
The wind herded the sky-white into billowed clouds.
The sun shone all at once upon the waiting earth.

The earth stood willing then to take the wind-blown seed.
Great branches grew as antlers through the mounded snow.
The sun shone all at once upon the waiting earth.
Bright sunlight then reflected in the snow, like eyes.

Great branches grew as antlers through the mounded snow.
The snow grew hair, grew fur, it shivered in the cold.
Bright sunlight then reflected in the snow, like eyes.
Eyes blinked themselves open and gazed out on the earth.

The snow grew hair, grew fur, it shivered in the cold.
A great tremble arose along a new-grown spine.
Eyes blinked themselves open and gazed out on the world.
A ringing exhalation, and the snow stood up.

A great tremble arose along a new-grown spine
And all the new-grown forest shook along with it.
A ringing exhalation, and the snow stood up.
The White Moose sang her way into the dawning world.

And all the new grown forest shook along with it.
“I call you, in the name of my white mother, Snow.”
The White Moose sang her way into the dawning world.
“I call you, in the name of my brown father, Earth.”

“I call you, in the name of my white mother, Snow,
All animals in white I summon to the land.
I call you, in the name of my brown father, Earth.
I summon to the land all animals in dun.

“All animals in white I summon to the land,
the ermine and the winter hare, the owl and wolf;
I summon to the land all animals in dun,
Beaver and bear, the deer and elk, the porcupine.”

The ermine and the winter hare, the owl and wolf
The White Moose in her shattering voice she summoned them.
Beaver and bear, the deer and elk, the porcupine
The White Moose called them here, her voice a thunderclap.

The White Moose in her shattering voice she summoned them.
The animals gave thanks, and walked into the woods.
The White Moose called them here, her voice a thunderclap.
She watched them walk into the woods, her heart well-pleased.

The animals gave thanks, and walked into the woods.
A blinding beauty, there in the beginning days.
She watched them walk into the woods, her heart well-pleased.
This was the separation between dark and light.

A Large Temporary Roost of Common Ravens
A Quantitative Analysis of Woodpecker Drumming
California Records of the Western Spade-Foot Toad
Death of a Society
Effects of Nuclear Testing on Desert Vegetation
Energetics of Pollination
Evidence of Ophiophagy in the Night Snake
Flammulated Owls in the Spring Mountains, Nevada
Midwinter Birds on the Mojave Desert
Mohave and Mojave
Parallel Evolution
Shamans as Neurotics
Some Observations on Xantusia vigilis
The White-Necked Raven

April 8, 2008

International Roma Day

Via the Theriomorph, CRN finds from Devious Diva that it’s International Roma Day, in which, according to the European Roma Information Office,

...we unite with Roma communities around the world in celebrating the Roma culture and remembering the long fight of Roma for their recognition.

But the history of European Roma is not only one of their fight against racism and social exclusion. It is also a history of the development and consolidation of a non-territorial nation in Europe. Over the centuries, Roma language, tradition and culture have not only become a part but have enriched the European culture. Here, the resistance of Roma against the Nazi and other authoritarian regimes as contribution to the development and consolidation of peace and democracy in the European Union should be acknowledged.

Here’s some Taraf de Haidouks to mark the day, in a cut from Latcho Drom. And I’ve said so before, but will again: check out la Diva’s Roma Series if you want to learn more. It’s important writing.

April 7, 2008

Al-Shira

Al-Shira bright above, so still, and still it moves.
Fixed in the firmament, in place until it moves.

A star-flecked sky in winter, cold above the stream.
Al-Shira is reflected in the rill. It moves.

The sky wheel cycles, grinding fine the centuries.
My little life’s ground on it as the mill it moves.

I longed for you, Al-Shira, when the skies were cold.
The coldest nights I’ve known, but now the chill it moves.

I sought to end my longing, wracked and desolate.
Take up the bow, loose arrows toward the kill: it moves.

Our road, Al-Shira, climbed into the winter sky.
The heights we won, and now our path downhill it moves.

The sky burst open. My heart fell upon the earth.
Run to it now, and claim it if you will. It moves.

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