Thinking … Wishing … Hoping

Ted Kooser, my favorite poet in the whole world, published a new book of poetry (Red Stilts) in September 2020.  Of course, I ordered several – one for myself and some for relatives and friends.  Signed by the poet.  Everybody should have a copy of Ted’s work.

For many years now, maybe, ten or twelve, I’ve been writing poetry.  I remember starting to write while at Ghost Ranch one summer.  I found that I really enjoyed selecting a subject and writing about the topic.  Children at the Ranch, the red and yellow and orange cliffs, the old sway-back horse who stepped on my foot, so many topics, right there at the Ranch.  I kept writing and writing.  I write regularly for the Tips and Chips, the monthly newsletter for the Denver Gem and Mineral Guild.  Nothing published by a book publisher, yet; but there is always hope.

Just today, the mail brought an oversized, two sided card from Copper Canyon Press, the publisher of many of Ted’s collections.  An advertisement, actually, for the book.  As usual, there were glowing remarks from reviewers about Kooser’s writing.  The Washington Post and Literary Hub.  As I read the glowing remarks, I couldn’t help thinking … wishing … hoping    that someday, someone would write that kind of review of my work.

The Literary Hub wrote, “Kooser’s great gift isn’t for turning language to camera eye, but rather the way he inscribes the tiniest bit of warmth into each one of his poems.”  What a glorious and absolutely accurate review.

Writing poetry used to be most comfortable for me, sitting in a coffee shop, surrounded by a cacophony of voices, drinking bitter coffee (no sugar or cream), and munching on a pastry or bagel.  The pandemic has eliminated that possibility for almost ten months.  So, now, I write, alone in my “TV” room with the television set turned up so that it appears to be the sounds in the coffee shop.  It seems to be working, although I miss the hustle and bustle that surrounds me while writing away from home.

I don’t write in rhyme; rather, in open verse.  I sometimes write haiku, but my favorite kind of poetry is haibun.  It seems that most things change over the eons of time, so American haibun is a little different from the original haibun, a term used in the seventeenth century by the master Japanese poet Matsuo Bashō.  It is part prose and part haiku; here is a haibun about Mount Evans.  You will notice that the poetry between the prose sections is not haiku.

 

Rosalie to Evans

A Haibun

 Mount Evans stands high above the surrounding hills, West of the Denver Metropolitan area.  Long ago, Mount Evans was not Mount Evans.  Rather, it was Mount Rosalie; so named for a woman.  Rosalie Osborne Ludlow was wife to Ludlow, a hashish addict.  Painter Albert Bierstadt, thoroughly enamored of the great mountains we have in Colorado, was also enamored of Rosalie and later married her.  Her namesake, the mountain, was short lived as Mount Rosalie.  The Colorado Legislature, in its infinite wisdom, renamed Mount Rosalie as Mount Evans.

 

Rosalie, Mount Rosalie.

Where do you stand?  Who took away your mountain

and gave it to a man?  Sending you to a smaller peak.

 

This Evans, John Evans, who was clearly determined to be more worthy of having this magnificent mountain named after him was a man with a varied and checkered career.  He committed actions of merit.  His accomplishments, to name a few:  Earned a Doctor of Medicine.  Instrumental in starting the University of Denver (formerly, the Colorado Seminary) and Northwestern University.  Advocated for the emancipation of slaves.  Influential in Washington.

 

John Evans.  John, the wealthy

M.D. and creator of great things.  Universities and such.

Well-known in politics, medicine, education.

 

Appointed by President Abraham Lincoln as the Second Territorial Governor of Colorado, he went from glory to shame when he permitted Chivington (dare we say, encouraged) to ride from Denver east to an encampment of Arapaho and Cheyenne Indians, slaughtering more than two hundred – men, women, and children.  He was summarily dismissed from his post as territorial governor.  And, Rosalie lost her status as a Colorado Fourteener; Rosalie Peak is now a Colorado Thirteener.

 

Here is another John Evans, a visitor to Colorado, who in 2019,

summited Mount Evans,

a long walk up and another long walk down.  Who, at the summit,

lost his hat to the wind.  How far will it go before it returns to earth?

What else has been lost at the summit of Mount Evans?

Be safe and well.

 

The Cranky Crone

 

If you have thoughtful feedback or questions, please let me know with a comment below.