Jaded Poems

Jaded Poems

Rock Shadows2

Jaded Aesthetic Hand-Wringing too Soon



The difference between Nature and nature
I think is like Woods and woods
Rivers and rivers
Rocks and rocks

It’s like the sun shining down on the green     
And making it more green not less

Or the river looking back at you in sorrow or joy
As if it’s given up and the day has not
Begun yet

Or it seems proud of its depth and its clarity
Of thought and feeling

Proud of its command of that route
Between here and there

Loire Valley. Photo by Douglas Pinson. 2007


Strangely enough
Strangely it seems that humans
Can affect this difference

By doing their part with good brushes
And good ideas of composition and angles
And diametrics

They can do their part by not
Screwing up the good stuff
The rolling hills and the mountains
In the distance
With beat up old buildings
Falling apart and cars falling apart

And roads slowly collapsing
    Like the confidence
Of deer on busy highways

I don’t want to talk about fragility
    Not yet
Not yet at least until the new tawdry moon
Or the second mortgage

But it is a factor
It just is



Jaded Aesthetics: Part II

Rock Shadows3


Then the sun comes back out and changes
That thought that vantage point

Changes my thoughts about lesser
And lesser

The rains and the bleakness of the
Last few days gave rise
To this idea of rented
Nature vs. when

She owns it outright
When She owns the originality of her
Greens and Browns and Blues
Vs. just seeing them on loan
And downgraded by too much trade

Too much resale too much withering away
Of some vital compelling interest

The mountains I can’t see
The rivers I can’t follow
The hills I can’t find

Because they’re covered in grayness
Dull listless shabby dull
Rented gray of the kind
Found only in worldwide depressions
And in bad anger-management classes

But the sun explodes
Gives that back to us
Gives the Redeemer Her broom
Her blast of constant wind and

Brilliant pixilations jump and shine
– Bow to no one



Jaded Aesthetics: Part III

Tunnel of Trees. France. Photo by Douglas Pinson. 2007


Driving through the heath and the poor health
Of the ground the grass
The trees

Driving through it like sad tunnels and serious
And tunnels leading to the end of tunnels

I could see the effects of blue on green
The sun healing what was gray
Until this afternoon

Until my mind was okay again with the thought
Of what Nature had given me and given
To all of us in the valley of our choice

Sleepwalking behind the wheel for days
Sleepwalking through the bleak entrails
Of weak patterns of faded life and light

I groaned alive and opened my eyes to the sun
To the fire it placed on the ground for me
For my battered withered heart

As if redemption really could be in a strong blade
Of grass a strong trunk of an oak
A fast blue clear cold stream



—by Douglas Pinson


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