Swampstrife and spatterdock
lull in the heavy waters;
some thirty little frogs
spring with each step you walk;
a fish’s belly glitters
tangled by rotting logs.
Over near the grey rocks
muskrats dip and circle
Out of his rim of ooze
a silt-black pond snail walks
inverted on the surface
toward what food he may choose.
You look up; while you walk
the sun bobs and is snarled
in the enclosing weir
of trees, in their dead stalks.
Stick in the mud, old heart,
yesterday from Ben @ a Santa Cruz beach — head on the left, digger right:
trimetrogon: a system of aerial photography in which one vertical and two oblique photographs are simultaneously taken for use in topographic mapping
|Emerita analoga, Pacific sand/mole crab [Benjamin Pappas]|
A person is phobic, that is, mentally unbalanced, when his [sic] fears fail to cancel out his [sic] other fears. The healthy, too, are terrified of heights, but equally terrified of depths, as terrified of dark as light, open spaces as closed. The phobic are overbold, not overly apprehensive, and must be conditioned to fear the opposite of what they fear. The difficulty of such a treatment lies in finding the counterbalancing terror. What is the opposite of a marketplace? A prime number? Blood? A spider?