A Poem: Triptych for An American Backyard
I
that August when she ran outinto the yard and the wash ofan afternoon storm
rain and thunder so loudthey could hold her screams
the long-toothed pick comb wassomehow still in her hand
she threw it into the rainand felt the cool slick mudunder her feet
we must break again and againand again until there areno more pieces left
going back insidestanding dripping in the kitchenshe heard the drum of the fading storm andremembered who she was meant to be
cloud herbarium 4
II
every leaf, every atomevery stone, root,discarded playing card,branch, grain, treeplastic skeleton arm,every electron, molecule,quark and bench
all of it
fragments and formsmaterial and momentsinfinity of fractions and fractalsforever unfolding andfolding into themselves
cloud herbarium 2
III
this backyard is a cosmos
ravens come and go,moving pieces back and forth
i imagine a botanist arrivingwho has lost her memory
she draws wild inferences the waya handful of bonesunder a California freewaycan inspire a movie
those ancient mosses,a soft green ring aroundthe base of the sycamorefinally gave birth to thiscalendar urging young menand young women to jointhe National Guard,each month a young manor a young woman
in a mast year that lilacagainst the stockade fencedropped 9mm bulletsthat worked their way into the groundseparating into female casingand male slug andseventeen years laterthis penny emerged
this yard is giving birththis yard is at war
the way America gives birththe way America is at war
cloud herbarium 1
This poem was inspired by
, a piece by
. Images provided by the artist.Artists's Statement:"This body of work emerged from my interest in botany as well as themes of memory, illusion, usefulness and the passage of time. The urban garden provides a special nexus between nature and culture, and as an artist I find that gardens have a rich metaphorical relationship to the studio. My garden is in my front yard, which stretches out along the north side of Delmar Boulevard. This street is well known as a dividing line between social and racial communities in St. Louis, and provides a distinctive context for observing and participating in the life of the city. In ecological terms, this space would be called an ecotone—a transitional space where two communities meet and integrate. Concrete isn’t the only evidence of the transition between nature and culture.Each day I clean up trash that has been that has been blown or dropped along the road. Occasionally there are objects of interest, and over the years I have made a collection of them. Some that stand out disconcertingly in their form and frequency are the parts and pieces of artificial plants that have been lost or discarded. They appear as fragments, individual petals and leaves, and sometimes as entire specimens. There is poignancy in this semblance of new and transient species, these awkward hybrids of nature and culture. I created the Cloud Studio Herbarium as a physical and virtual space to display an evolving index of these artificial plants. The seed packets (small envelopes attached to each specimen sheet) contain collections of other objects that were found under similar circumstances. These objects work together as a sort of visual poetry, open to various arrangements and interpretations."-John SarraRead our
and
that appeared in our second print issue of the year.