Trespassing at Lake Buhlow

Trespassing at Lake Buhlow

 

 

 

Winter began early, a suspicious miracle.
This evening, the purple-black belly of sky loomed
low enough to bowl us over and break our bones

but still, invincible, we tiptoed down the tightrope

of jagged rocks jutting out L-shaped into the lake.

Balancing at its farthest edge, snapping photos

like demon-possessed paparazzi as the sky and water welded
into one color and the air, milk-thick and freezing,
succumbed to a wind no southerner could withstand.
Walking back, the red, royal gush of Shai's rippling
hair reminded me of a painting whose name
I will never remember. It's cruel, our forgetting.
Is it lost or stolen? The world repeats itself with every
wave of the wind. We never learn. No matter what,
we never learn.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Eilis]

I was struck by the sort of dramatic irony of your ending. In saying we never learn but showing through the poetry so much learned and understood. It’s like stepping back into the shoes of the other self and remembering more vividly (this) than any present feeling. I loved the voice here. The keen eye for detail and how the details become vivid through your chosen descriptions. Love, also, again, how you juxtapose the two states of mind. “How cruel our forgetting” as the poem almost memorializes the action, the moment, the space. There’s something bordering profound in the effect of the poem, to my mind. Really enjoyed the yin & yang of it.

[Seth Cason]

Eilis-- thank you for that beautiful knuckle-sandwich of a review! There are so many angles, themes, etc. that we, as writers, cannot objectively see in our own work, but when the reader makes note of it, the subconscious says, "I came up with that, thank you. He didn't even know what he was doing. Please get me the hell out of here!!" I mean, at least from my experience.

[Mike Keenan]

What I like here is the irregular line forms, which play into the title and also the details, but I have trouble with the word 'succumbing.'

[Casey Truax]

The word choice and imagery are very distinctive, and I'm always a sucker for alliteration.

[Seth Cason]

Thank you, Casey. I'm glad you noticed.

[Tertia]

Your words are strong and imposing and create an immediate atmosphere. I particularly like the wording ‘belly of sky’ and the way you tell this snapshot of a story which has a profound ending.

To have any beautiful part of nature forbidden/private always makes people want to go there.

[Seth Cason]

Thank you! And you are so right about breaching private property. I went to school in Oregon for a few years, a small town just outside Salem, and one night a new friend walked to the western edge of town (yep, it was that small) where there was nothing but a giant house set back on a hill, a couple of silos, and a ridiculous wooden railing with "No Trespassing" signs all over. We slipped through the fines climbed up just so and suddenly we were on a cliff overlooking the outskirts of town and patchwork farms spread out and such. I started going there early, early in the morning. With the help of a map and a magnifying glass, I learned that spot was called "Cupid's Knoll." So I wrote a poem about it that got published in a litmag last year. Why am I babbling when I should be reading your story?

[Seth Cason]

I really should be fully awake before i post stuff.

[Fran Marie]

you paint a most vivid
and detailed picture
winters earlier than
usual arrival..the icy
cold effects of wind
and waters against
mere mortal men to
withstand the ravishes
of. nature s cruel forces

like the demon possessed
paparazzi..anything for a
picture at all costs..and
those regrets? we all have
those..more than a few
myself..

Nice Work Seth

[Seth Cason]

Thank you, Fran, I truly appreciate it. However in this case, I was the paparazzi, but I wasn't demon-possessed, just too much Pizza Hut. Yeah, I took the photo in the thumbnail that night, back when there were actual cameras and tiny film reels to mail off. Wow, me and my red-headed friends were seventeen.

[Fran Marie]

you're s o welcome
yeah, BTW great picture
and I meant to say
I liked the paparazzi
line..glad you're not
demon possessed :)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

We do seem to allow history to repeat itself and make the same mistakes over and over.
So regrets and what if's probably don't make much sense, because if we had it to do over again
we would still have regrets and what if's.
This poem took me back to my regrets and what if's...ones I have been trying to reconcile with for years.
j.

[Seth Cason]

Thank you for reading, Jacob. I feel like a vending machine of regret sometimes.

[lightsong]

This morning among the songs I was listening there is "mind your mind" by Vacuum, and "am I right" by erasure, and both are in THIS poem of yours! a shout from the deep soul into the world, into humanity, feeling remorse and regrets for things this man didn't even do (I hope this makes a sense), trying, tearing and keep trying to keep balance and not getting lost in this messed-up world, those whom passed, those whom are living now like there is nothing in this world but their needs, their egos, their greed and those who will come in the future, the wind will always be a wind, now and then, but do people change? do they hear and see the miracle that's waiting to be born through this wind? will we wait for so long to witness it?! the shout of deep sadness of how humans and earth became is heard here, gentle at times, more profound at others. this what I feel here dear Seth.

[Seth Cason]

lightsong! I appreciate this review more than I can describe, partially because, speaking of vacuums, I think one has stolen my brains. Hope you're doing well. BTW the thumbnail photo, the bridge, I actually took from the rocks with my friends at Lake Buhlow that evening in December. We were seventeen. That was back when we used actual cameras.

[lightsong]

WOW You took that beautiful photo?! 17... that was long time ago for me :). Light will bring your brains back just sit, relax, wait and see :)