concrete jungle makes for creative nature poetry

Alright, I’m lying. It’s not really creative nature poetry. But it’s nature poetry with a bit of a different slant to it. I’ve always lived in the country.  I’ve always had a backyard. My childhood memories include my parents using cigarettes or salt to get leeches off my legs after walking through the creek at my grandparent’s place.  The most amazing thing I have ever seen is a tie between the clear night sky from Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and the clear night sky from western nebraska.  Though the obscenely cute little ass of a woman I used to date places a dmn close third.

Living in cleveland now, walking around a bit, I see how nature is a commodity in places like this. Trees and bushes are hemmed in by concrete and trimmed to pleasing shapes. The night sky is a void. The only thing that seems to have some power of its own is the sky and the weather. It just rolls in and rolls out oblivious to our wants and cares but I bet that someday even that will change and come under our control.

Back to the nature poetry. An emphasis on the poesy. What I’m saying is that nature isn’t even nature here. There are a lot of beautiful homes, cute shops, well manicured lawns, etc. etc. etc., but it seems to be in a battle against a ridgic control by people who want it to simply be in its place and be pretty and its desire to live. Working on filling up a book of poetry loosely centered around nature and the difference between what I was able to write about before and what I am writing about now is stark on the page. It becomes fairly clear that not only the roads planned haphazardly and a bit on the fly but nature was an afterhtought as well. It makes me think of a book I read a couple of years ago about the city of Los Angeles and how it has been hit by disaster after disaster, from earthquakes to tornados, and how because of poor city planning it is also ripe to be hit by fires to poorly contstructed tenement buildings and other assorted man made disasters.  Cleveland makes met think of this. Whether I should be connecting the two or not I don’t know, I doubt it, but the connection is already there in my head.

Should make for interesting poetry, though.

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