This tree was ensconced in heavy fog at our motel parking lot in suburban Seattle. We journey today and tomorrow, return to Rockpit, Alaska.
[daily log: walking, 2km;]
Month: November 2023
Caveat: Poem #2673 “Anticipated return”
ㅁ One last morning here, among the Oregon trees. Alaskan trees, soon.
– a pseudo-haiku.
Caveat: Tree #1766 “The leaves have mostly fallen”
This tree was up along the hillside.
[daily log: walking, 2.5km;]
Caveat: Poem #2672 “Buy now, at a discount”
ㅁ Mikkerbauk fantasie Joe - Ah, blue hills of quiet paradise. The captain-people will take it all away in fancy flying rocket-planes of self-individual, hallucinatory love of masses - squalid suffering folk with homes of cardboard, you see, don't you, the danger?! (Buy now, at discount).
– a free-form poem from my own ancient past. I wrote this poem in April, 1988, in a paper journal I was keeping at the time. Don’t ask me what “Mikkerbauk” means – I frequently produced such vaguely Joycean nonces in my journal-writing of that era. The captain-people were ubiquitous, however.
Caveat: Tree #1765 “The aliens and the Christmas present”
This tree is a guest tree from my past. I drew this “holly” tree in December, 2013, with accompanying aliens and Christmas present, on the whiteboard for one of my elementary school English language debate classes that I taught in South Korea. Drawings of silly aliens in various strange contexts was a staple of my standard just-before-class whiteboard art of the period.
[daily log: walking, 3km;]
Caveat: Poem #2671 “The climate’s suggestions”
ㅁ I looked out and saw a white brightness. The moon was there among the trees. It had stolen the darkness. The leaves were black and white. Frosted purple air lapped at the bark, traced branches... winter hints.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Tree #1764 “Tree, river”
This tree was down by the river.
[daily log: walking, 3km;]
Caveat: Poem #2670 “Reunion”
ㅁ You can not see them for forty years, but a true friend remains a friend. You meet again, exchange looks, and there's understanding. This happened today, it sounds corny. It's human, makes me glad.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Tree #1763 “Backdrop”
This tree was a backdrop for some people being photographed at the Oregon Zoo today.
That’s me on the left. Beside me are Rita – a woman who was my 3rd grade and 6th grade teacher, among other things. Beside her is Jeannine, Rita’s daughter, one of my closest childhood friends, who I haven’t seen since high school graduation, maybe. And Jeannine’s child, River, who is recovering from Covid right now. So it was a kind of little reunion at the Oregon Zoo, which was sunny, not too crowded, but quite chilly, down in its little canyon west of downtown Portland.
[daily log: walking, 6km;]
Caveat: Poem #2669 “Seventy-seventh stanza”
ㅁ Snow had arrived, and was thick on the ground. Trees were stripped bare. The town's streets had no sound. Kiamon trudged from the dingy motel, Facing her fate, her thick coat like a shell.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
Caveat: Tree #1762 “A tall yellow tree”
This tree is down by the gate to the road that goes up the along the Tualatin river.
Juli and I and the dog took a long walk along the valley today. Then a bunch of Canadians showed up, including Wayne (the annual visitor to Rockpit, Alaska – a close friend of Arthur’s), who are Keith’s relatives, so we had a kind of pre-Thanksgiving. We’ll do the main Thanksgiving on Saturday, which is Juli and Keith’s tradition.
[daily log: walking, 6km;]
Caveat: Poem #2668 “The gray”
ㅁ The map failed to appear as it should. An expectant grayness, instead, filled up the browser's window. Rebooting the server did not fix a thing. Perhaps the world was broken: "Planet closed."
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Tree #1761 “There for the rising sun”
This tree was there for the rising sun.
[daily log: walking, 5km;]
Caveat: Poem #2667 “In conversation with the psychologist”
ㅁ His father had died of grumpiness - declared categorically. Somehow that doesn't connect to his current approach. No introspection - or just hidden. Self, unseen unknown, gone.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Tree #1760 “Southwest Portland”
This tree was in a neighborhood in Portland, southwest of downtown.
Arthur spent about 5 hours receiving a “cognitive evaluation” with some psychological specialists at the VA. I had a pretty boring time just waiting around for the whole thing to finish, so I walked around outside.
[daily log: walking, 5.5km;]
Caveat: Poem #2666 “He lost his tiny plastic hat”
ㅁ "Thief!" His hat had detached, leaving his head exposed as he ran: the lego guy's peg head was apparently too bright for the man to evade police. Well, that's how my grandson explained it.
– a reverse nonnet.
Caveat: Tree #1759 “The donut-thief’s magnetic donut”
This tree is a small lego tree, in front of a lego police station my grandson Parker built. He showed me many things, including a donut-thief who had a magnetic donut, apparently.
[daily log: walking, 3km;]
Caveat: Poem #2665 “The hammer and the nail”
ㅁ I dreamed my own self-trepanation, which is a quite strange thing to dream. So, where do these thoughts come from? What suggested a nail and a small hammer? It was nothing that I'd seen. Random stuff.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Tree #1758 “The persimmon tree”
This tree is a persimmon tree in my aunt Janet’s yard in Pleasant Hill, Oregon. I visited them today.
I always have lots of wonderfully philosophical conversations with Janet and Bob.
[daily log: walking, 4km;]
Caveat: Poem #2664 “The night’s events”
ㅁ I heard the slow drizzle on the roof. But then I went outside, and saw there were many stars instead. Somehow the clouds had fled, during that short time. The sky's changes disregard even night.
– a nonnet.
#Poetry #nonnet
Caveat: Tree #1757 “The fake lake”
This tree was out next to a fake lake, which was lacking in water. It’s called Hagg Lake, or Scoggins Valley Reservoir. The Reservoir was quite low. We drove there, but it’s really not that far – a few miles. We went there and walked around, Juli and Keith and Arthur and I, and their dog.
[daily log: walking, 5km;]
Caveat: Poem #2663 “Astrology”
ㅁ Getting up before dawn, I saw stars. I failed to notice their movement; rather, they were fixed and still. Some tree branches imposed, drawing their stark lines. A single star blinked, wavered: a leaf swung.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Tree #1756 “The patio”
This tree was behind Juli’s back patio, up against the hillside.
[daily log: walking, 3km;]
Caveat: Poem #2662 “Leaving”
ㅁ There were leaves racing along the road, flung around by the passing cars. They seemed to be sentient. Which is to say, panicked, suffering, fearful, fleeing traffic, jumping down ditchward, hurt.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Tree #1755 “Have a heart”
This tree is in front of Arthur’s infamous yurt, his bedroom-away-from-home since times immemorial (about 20 years).
Before the yurt, he had an ancient school bus converted to an RV, parked in a similar location in Juli and Keith’s yard. So Arthur calls the yurt “the bus.” Keith worries about Arthur being in the yurt, but I think he’s better off there than in some location (e.g. the guest room here) which is less familiar to him.
Art and I did another appointment at the VA hospital and clinics this morning. This time, he got an echocardiogram. The tech was very chatty and explained to me what he was doing and seeing as he did it, which made it pretty interesting for me. Art’s arhythmias were quite noticeable.
[daily log: walking, 5km;]
Caveat: Poem #2661 “A circle”
ㅁ Apple pie was a necessity. So Juli rolled out some pie crust, pressed it into the pie plate. She has pre-made filling from their apple trees. The top added, oven hot, it baked... done!
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Tree #1754 “Orange and yellow under the sun”
This tree was along the road just up above Juli and Keith’s. Apparently, it is Autumn.
I took Art to the VA hospital and clinics in downtown Portland, today. We saw doctor Kim, who is a very personable doctor and who is one of the few doctors I’ve interacted with, with Arthur, who seems to “get” Art’s mental style. It was a bit intense, as Dr Kim used the word “dementia” with Arthur directly for the first time. I really haven’t ever dared to use that word – Art has always been of the clear and firm opinion that that is something that happens to other people, not to him. So I guess I was relieved to let Dr Kim bring it up, in a medical setting. It could be between him and a doctor, and I wasn’t implicated except as a witness.
Next step is the comprehensive cognitive function evaluation, scheduled for next week.
[daily log: walking, 4km;]
Caveat: Poem #2660 “The Fall”
ㅁ The years transformed into confusion, and that, in turn, turned to anger. The missing information rendered malevolent in its mere absence, floated like leaves lost by trees - just like Fall.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Tree #1753 “Peering out”
This tree sheltered a peering deer.
[daily log: walking, 4km;]
Caveat: Poem #2659 “Probably just a metaphor”
ㅁ In my dreams, a billionaire's small child capriciously commanded me to perform some pointless tasks. I resisted, angry. But the games went on. World aflame, she... revealed her robot face.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Tree #1752 “Upper Tualatin Valley”
This tree was down by the upper Tualatin River in the hills about an hour west of Portland, just a short walk (maybe 1km) down the slope from Juli and Keith’s house, where I’m staying. We didn’t see any salmon jumping, which we often do this time of year, here.
I decided to enjoy an uneventful day, and just hung out. Sorta officially “on vacation.”
[daily log: walking, 5km;]
Caveat: Poem #2658 “Survival narrative”
ㅁ The stories accumulate like snow, forming drifts among the neurons. The underlying spaces become blurred and smoothed out. The stories remain. You can study their patterns and find self.
– a nonnet.
Caveat: Tree #1751 “Chocolate and Flashlights and other very important things”
This tree is in Juli and Keith’s yard in western Oregon, where I’m visiting. The Fall weather is milder here than in Southeast Alaska.
I went to town to do shopping errands today. Into the giant Fred Meyer store (like a Walmart or Target, for those unfamiliar with Pacific Northwest). After all the time living and working in a tiny town on a Southeast Alaskan island, it’s a bit overwhelming, but not in a bad way, at least for me. You have the thought: this store feels bigger than the whole town!
There was an amusing incident. Arthur insisted on coming along on the shopping trip. He’s been quite anxious, since leaving home, about his lack of a certain brand of chocolate that we’ve been planning to “refresh his supply” on this trip. It’s a kind of separation anxiety, almost. We had run out of his brand back in August or so (we keep a lot on hand, and refresh once a year shopping down south, or order online), and we’d been unable to re-order online: vendors were “out of stock.” It was a distressing situation for him.
So he wanted to come along, so we could stop at the big stores and look for his brand of chocolate. We found it at Fred Meyer, and we bought 24 “giant size” bars of chocolate – maybe (only maybe) good for a year back up in Alaska. But it was all they had in stock.
The thing that was so striking: the moment we put the chocolate bars in the shopping cart, Arthur’s anxiety melted away. You could see him visibly relax. And then he announced he was tired, and he went and sat down at the front of the store to wait for me to finish the rest of my shopping.
So I got to spend a few hours with Arthur in a less anxious state. Of course, within a few hours, he’d found himself a new thing to worry about: flashlights! He wanted to make sure all the flashlights worked, that he could find in his yurt (his room-away-from-home at Juli’s, since time immemorial).
[daily log: walking, 3km;]