Eavan Boland: "Not As Sculpture But Syntax"

 

LAVA CAMEO 

(A brooch carved on volcanic rock)

I like this story --

My grandfather was a sea captain.

My grandmother always met him when his ship docked.

She feared the women at the ports -

except that it is not a true story,

more a rumour or a folk memory,

something thrown out once in a random conversation;

a hint merely.

If I say wool and lace for her skirt and

crepe for her blouse

in the neck of which is pinned a cameo,

carved out of black, volcanic rock;

if I make her pace the Cork docks, stopping

to take down her parasol as a gust catches

the silk tassels of it --

then consider this:

there is a way of making free with the past,

a pastiche of what is

real and what is

not, which can only be

justified if you think of it

not as sculpture but syntax:

a structure extrinsic to meaning which uncovers

the inner secret of it.

She will die at thirty-one in a fever ward.

He will drown nine years later in the Bay of Biscay.

They will never even be

sepia, and so I put down

the gangplank now between the ship and the ground.

In the story, late afternoon has become evening.

They kiss once, their hands touching briefly.

Please,

Look at me, I want to say to her: show me

the obduracy of an art which can

arrest a profile in the flux of hell.

Inscribe catastrophe.

--EAVAN BOLAND

Borrowed from a volume I heartily recommend:

THREE IRISH POETS: An Anthology

Paula Meehan, Mary O'Malley, Eavan Boland

Edited by Eavan Boland

Carcanet Press, 2003

Accidental Exposure

 

I made the local paper as an extra in a photo!

(Thanks, Bibit, for sharing this with me.)

At my first paddle boarding lesson a month or so back, a writer was part of the group learning to paddle.  ( A photographer was stationed on land.)

In the photo, I am looking down at my board instead of looking forward and beyond. Grrr.

(I look at my skates on the ice too: bad form.)

Passages

 

 

Silken Swell

 

Mary O'Malley: "The Man of Aran" and "The Joiner's Bench"

 

THE MAN OF ARAN

But what if it were not epic.

Before the echo sounder was invented

fishermen let down weighted piano wire,

they listened for a school to hit, a note to sound.

Perhaps a scale -- grace notes as single fish

hit E flat minor, say, or strange tunes

as a shoal crescendoed through the water,

minnows and sharks, sharps and flats --

heard from above at a different pitch

not perfect, but accurate, close enough for a jazz;

their watery playing gave them up to slaughter

but the boatman dreamed of women singing

and the song coaxed him as he lured mackerel

with feathers that darted like blue jays

through the clear sea.  He stayed out too long.

Let's leave it at that.

There would be cliffs rearing soon enough,

weather fighting.

No need for all that hauling of wrack

to the wrong side of the island,

for half-drowning the locals, for shark.

We know how it works.

A pretty lure, hunger, the hook.  No storm is as sweet

or deadly as the sting, the barb's sink.

THE JOINER'S BENCH

Somehow she found herself drawn

to his desk, that intimate place,

ran her hand over its surface

as you would smooth a skirt down.

A ridge where the lathe had skipped

delayed her and she looked up at his eyes

surprised by how familiar

their blue black stain.  It spread like ink.

His mind played over her poems,

her hand slipped over the scarred timber,

a wave of slim-fingered elegance.  Best left at this

best to have set the ocean on fire

between them than a shared desk -- 

trees were her nemesis.

--MARY O'MALLEY 

Borrowed from a volume I heartily recommend:

THREE IRISH POETS: An Anthology

Paula Meehan, Mary O'Malley, Eavan Boland

Edited by Eavan Boland

Carcanet Press, 2003

Lady

 

SUP: Workout Notes

Today's SUP workout started with 10 minutes of tippy, creaky struggling and the conviction that I had made a fool's bargain choosing a racer over a cruiser. Once I had warmed up--I'd forgotten about needing to warm up--I felt pretty good and started jaunting about. 

At the 40 minute mark some creakiness returned. Have to work up to longer sessions. Cruised back to the launch spot. A good time.

Magic Carpet

 

Buoy out front: 

Van Damme State Beach,

Mendocino

This shot is so much better on a big screen.

Too Smoky

 

Sausalito.

Aiming for Fitness

 

Paddle boarding just might save me, particularly since the pools are closed or restricted. Whole body workout. Measured exercise for the problematic knees. Balancing exercises supposedly good for the aging brain!

And I live with such bounty, so many paddling spots bayside or seaside, an easy drive away.

(I have been commuting hours for decades for lesser rewards. In the pandemic, I am spending more hours at the computer, but some of my old hours at the wheel could go into a proper workout.)

--August 12 notebook entry

Meet The New Board

 

My new paddle board is definitely demanding: sleek and tippy. 

(Still, the test isn't genuine without the threat of failure.) 

But my legs and knees, while sore and stiff in the morning, seem to benefit from the exercise, and my spirit certainly has been glad to find salt water in this new way. I wonder, yes, if I should have chosen a cruiser, but all the books and the guides say buy the board that challenges you. 

Mere salesmanship? 

I will tell you after some serious workouts.

P.S. I do like how fast this board can be, even when I am merely in kayak-mode.

I Have A Kelp Tattoo.

Abalone: Mendocino

 

Smoky

 

Richardson Bay from the water.

Thetis

 

Outtakes/Keepers: Mendocino Paddling