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- Biographical information
- Annie
- Happy Eggs
- Knowing Is Human not of Rivers
- These two Friends
- Through these Mountains
- We Who Hunted; I. In this Little Valley
- We Who Hunted; II. Keep out
- We Who Hunted; III. They Say
- We Who Hunted; IV. We Who Hunted
Biographical information- Name: Peter Christensen
Place of birth: Canada- Through these Mountains
- Through these mountains and valleys
Is the way back to you
Back to the struggle
To make what we have work
It is clear
That you are worried
Frightened
That our love
Is ending
As you leave
You say
I love you
But it is a question
As much as a statement
So sharp
And accurate
That a slice of doubt
Is silently known
As soon as the words are
Before you leave
You instruct Anna
To take a picture
Of us
In front of the crumbling Mexican archway
Leading to the rambling old house
Amid the orchards
Above the lake
Where I am writing
Where I face my demons and demagogues
Desire reason and uncertainty
The picture is evidence
That we were here together
This too is our house
You must go now
To work
For the corporate giants
The ones who have taken
So much of our lives
Given us money
As you leave I see fear in your eyes
Uncertainty in your smile
I do not say
Don't worry
For I am caught up
In these spring orchards
Caught up
In all this pruning back of life
The way back to you
Is through the high mountains
There are passes rock falls
Torrents and dark valleys
But I know the road eventually
Becomes singular
Reason virtue and passion
Join together
Lead to the doorway
Into our small house
High in the mountains.
These two Friends- (For Glen and Jim).
These two friends I know
Are on the radio
Speaking poems of fish and friendship
Their gentle voices swimming
The dark shoals of Jan Lake
It is as if
I am with them
Standing by the fire Jim has built
Against the cold offshore wind
Its warmth crackles around our ankles
Reaches up toward our outstretched hands
And pulls us down leaning back
We open our coats to
The slow heat of confession
I admit
I am unruly and isolated
Too quick to argue
That contradictions and compromise
Lead to imperfect people acting
Upon a perfect world
I too have guarded the bitter flames
Of envy and refusal
Against the winds of forgiveness
History wove traps
My heart could not escape
I am ashamed to have wept
The thick and bloody tears of anger
O soft tongued friends
These confessions are of the fire
And I beg you to stop my mouth
With gentle rags and bind my thoughts
Before they become maudlin
Then soft as water speak your poems
Your lapping admonitions
For only then will fish and friendship
Calm this shrinking vessel
Where I hoard your counsel.
Annie- While riding the chair lift with Annie
she asked me
what are you gonna do
I said
live off my wife
she is supporting me at a lifestyle
to which I would like to become accustomed
Annie became silent
To ski you must
become one with the fall line
this is the zen
but Annie could not forget the pain
she brought with her to the mountain
and she carved my comment
close to her heart
At the end of the day
I brought the car around
she threw her skis into the trunk
threw her poles at the back of my seat
got in to the back of the car
and slammed the door
I asked
if she had a problem
she huffed like an angry bear
and said
it's called teamwork
I don't know what you would do without Yvonne
This caused me to think
she believed I was useless and dependent
and I admit my anger got the better of me
Annie I suspect you are commenting
on something that is none of your goddamn business
Well that kind of broke the ice
later we said we were sorry
But you see how just one little story
can turn the heart
harden the arteries
tighten the lips
just one phrase
can twist the knife.
Knowing Is Human not of Rivers- The river does not care
what is put on it
does not see or hear
or feel tired or needed
does not go to work
need money or care
if the job was bid
too low or too high
The river does not feel
cold or pain or
broken in spirit
make mortgage payments
enjoy fine wines,
excess, desire, passion,
cool thoughts,
anger
A river is dammed
its energy seized
channeled into wires
it does not feel sorrow
The river does not care
if we live or die of cancer
or stroke or lung disease
are fit or mentally ill
The river does not care
if we sewer it,
smelter slag its gravel beds,
dump salt, garbage, pulp effluent, 24D or rain
it flows or doesn¹t flow
clear dirty polluted or stinking
it's all the same to the river
The river is not subtle or riproaring
or easy or difficult to run
the fishing is neither good nor bad
the river has no memory
no conscience no history
fought no wars lost no loved ones
the river knows nothing
knowing is human, not of rivers.
We Who Hunted; I. In this Little Valley- In this little valley
we are in a way
all married to each other
no one is anonymous
crimes of passion
mistaken identities
infractions of the wildlife act
are remembered and tallied in
the grand community ledger
When change threatens as change always does
some are filled with envy
others hate
The new arrivals all believe
they have 'discovered' this belated wilderness
where we have struggled
lived simply and fairly well
you can tell the renters from the owners
the first thing the buyers do
is nail up blood red no trespassing
signs to the trees and then
they build fences where no need exists
They have a need to defend territory
against others who seek the same solace
they have found and
like all colonizers once the fort is built
they become missionaries
act as if we who have lived here so long
are children
Does this story sound familiar?
the oldest profession is colonization
I have become indifferent to these people
at times I resist or consider them fools
but I know there will
always be more
I will either learn to live with them or
go elsewhere.
We Who Hunted; 2. Keep out- The little valley is filling up
with people who just got here
and want to keep others out
The more recent the arrivals
the more vocal they are
about keeping others out
They build barbed wire fences
where I used to walk or ride
Sometimes the children of the valley
are sent away to urban schools
and when they return
they also put up signs
Strictly No Trespassing
And we who live here
wonder what they learned
about themselves that
they must now keep all others out.
We Who Hunted; 3. They Say- They say
that killing animals is wrong
unless sanctified by aboriginal claim
or the process of feedlots and abattoirs
They say
they have discovered The Valley
will save us from ourselves
they loudly lament the loss of the high country
while sinking basements and roads
into the winter range
At meetings
they
shake and furrow their brow
claim and profane their care
for the environment
seed hatred among us
quote Suzuki
They say
we should make doors and window frames
from what is left of the forests
get our meat at the fast food outlets
sit in our cars and eat
They will show us
how to live on the land
And like the industrialist's
their aggressive offspring
tear the fragile hills of the winter range
open to the weather with bikes and
All Terrain Vehicles.
We Who Hunted; 4. We Who Hunted- They say
we who hunted the bear elk and deer
must not hunt
because a percentage of householders
from town feel bad
about us killing animals
They say
the bear has an inherent right to live
that the bear is sacred
the bear is a renewable resource
the bear is an indicator species
They say
that the killing of bears is wrong
unless by the Conservation Officers of the Queen
in the name of
achieving the optimum sustainable population
or getting rid of garbage bears
or killing bears that are a nuisance
or have killed humans
And so that no one will profit
from this killing
like government surplus
the bear's body must go in the dump
but we who live on the land
know the bear is many things
and we know
we too are animals.
Happy Eggs- I drove down to Keladen
to buy imperfect eggs
that must have come from
imperfect chickens
Free Range it said on the carton
You may ask why
I would go to so much trouble
to buy imperfect eggs
when next door the Safeway beckoned
Perhaps I needed
some grit in my life or
maybe as I struggle each day to
work off my after forty paunch
I could not bear to
shop in a store called Overwieghtea
And while those concerns were true
a more troubling question pecked at my heart
indeed an existential question
was scratching at my brain
you see I did not understand
why God had not made all eggs
perfect in the first place
if that was
where we were headed anyway?
Could it be God made imperfect eggs
to give humankind something to do
after all with free range I mean free will
humans would need something to do
and having been given dominion
over the earth and over all the things that grow and crawl
well maybe
making perfect eggs would be
just the thing to keep us busy
I was fenced in by these fowl questions
I drove my Keladen eggs home
and carefully set them on the table
As if reaching under a setting hen
I cautiously lifted the lid on the carton
and beheld a dozen different eggs
indeed there was a delirium of differences
some short some with small protrusions on their tips
round big ones next to small ones some tall and narrow
an unsorted bunch if ever there was
Being a purveyor of metaphors
I was quick to recognize
that in this little paper carton world
multiculturalism although not official was
not a problem each egg was stable
I opened a second carton
and apoplectically viewed
a rather small blue oblong egg
nesting in the corner pocket among
eleven brown ones
In light of such anomaly
I felt sure that I would solve
this mystery of differences
but after a time
the problem remained ingrained
the answer had flown the coop
With one hope of descrambling this conundrum
I glumly walked to the Safeway store
and bought a carton of perfect eggs which
strangely cost less per dozen
than the imperfect ones
I took them home and
set the Safeway carton beside the others
I peeped in and
restless as a rooster
stared at the identical unfertilized twelvelets
Slowly but surely a graceful comprehension nestled in:
the perfect Safeway eggs
were really the imperfect ones
for in selecting for perfect eggs
of perfect size and perfect shape
and perfect colour made by perfect chickens
these eggs, and chickens that produced them
were made unhappy and vulnerable
for I understood that the slightest change of weather or food
wreaked havoc in the wired hen house and
all manner of antibodies are needed
to keep perfect chickens eating as they
perch precariously on rubbery legs there being
little difference between bone or gristle
And then there are esthetic questions while
one perfect egg seems a thing of beauty
twelve identical perfect eggs are plain
and easy to take for granted
as if they have no story and come from nowhere
on the other hand
the free range eggs seem happy
even though their fate is sealed
unlike the perfect eggs they are content
and I speculate that the uncadged
unculled unregualated chickens
who roam the range and produce these eggs
are happy as well,
that is a far as I can discern
what is happiness to chickens
So could it be
that happiness depends on differences
that by being different we have
the greatest chance for freedom
for survival
could it be that God does not know
where we are headed
that we are free to range
I drove down to Keladen
to buy some perfect eggs.