
Forest Gumption
Sometimes driving by an empty field at evening
on an island somewhere
where we have gone to get away
from whatever it all is
I experience, out of nowhere, a primal longing
and I imagine stopping the car
and crossing that empty field
to enter the forest beyond
a forest that is shutting down for the evening
all rustle, chirp and squeak
and walking through that forest
I encounter in a clearing
a deer illuminated by a shaft of sunlight
the deer stares at me doe-eyed as I pass
but does not move,
as I continue down the trail
a ball of white gas darts between the trees
keeping pace
there’s a whiff of sulfur in the air
in another clearing I come across a log cabin
moss on the decaying cedar roof,
a thin wisp of smoke exiting the chimney
I walk across the slick green of the porch
and open the door to a room
smelling of mold and mouse shit
there is no furniture except for a table,
a chair, and an old fashioned typewriter
I walk to the table, sit down
and start to write this poem
I get to the point in the poem
where I sit down to write the poem
and there’s a knock on the door
I walk across the creaking floor
and open the door to a tall stranger
dressed in black, his wide-brimmed hat
pulled low over his eyes
“I’m in your poem”, he says,
in a voice that has travelled centuries,
“I’m in your poem, what happens next?”
(apologies to Stephen King)
Over at earthweal, Brendan asks us to write about “wildness”, that’s what I started with!
Also, taking part in Open Link over at dverse.
I enjoyed this, JIM – made me laugh, and also gave a new perspective on wildness!
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Thank you, Ingrid!
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Encountering wildness uses wilderness as its metaphor, though it really happens in every encounter enlivened by its specifics. This poem reminded me of a Gary Snyder poem where the finds poetry peering in from the darkness outside a campfire. That’s the old fella at the table.
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Thanks Brendan, I always enjoy youur comments and perspective!
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Life imitates life. (K)
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that’s exactly how ed mcmahan ended up in one of my poems, but he showed up without a giant check from publisher’s clearing house, so i was hesitant to let him stay… enjoyed this very much jim
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Ed McMahon! Now that;s frightening! Thanks Phillip
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Oh WOW!!!!!! This is superb. I LOVE it, though am a bit scared by the stranger in black. What a very cool idea, to write about the poem from inside the poem. Rather brilliant.
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Thanks Sherry, much appreciated.
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I love this! It reminds me of one of my favourite books – “the year of the hare” by Arto Paasilinna. It’s what that movie “falling down” should have been – someone just choosing to walk out of the traffic.
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Thanks Kate and thanks for the book reference, I’ll have to check it out.
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This rambles but with purpose, like a walk in the woods, a bit of a dark and ominous path followed, but one that leads somewhere since that typewriter invokes the oldest Visitor. I really admire how you have made this seem effortless as a stream of snowmelt, carrying nuance and leaving a freshness behind it.
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Oh, forgot to say, nice title!
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Thanks Joy and thanks for noticing the title, when I thought of it I cringed and laughed at the same time.
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The lush realm where we meet our poetry. lovely. I like what he’s wearing.
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The Man in Black!
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Yes, I’d really like a rustic cabin in the forest to meet my poetry in!
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This is absolutely stellar writing, Jim! 💝💝
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Thanks Sanaa!
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This is phenomenal!
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Thanks Linda!
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Love! I too have let these moments pass by, but rarely carried myself into such a powerful story as the imagining continues!
“I experience, out of nowhere, a primal longing
and I imagine stopping the car
and crossing that empty field
to enter the forest beyond . . . “
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Thanks Susan!
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Pingback: Forest Gumption – Nelsapy
A gorgeous atmospheric piece, Jim. Very real, very visual and cleverly self-referential with a hint of infinite regressive. An absolute pleasure to read. 🧡
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Thank you Steve!
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