“The Ravens Became Crows”
2020-09-14
Written 7 September 2019 in Payne County, Oklahoma.
Brian Fuchs, “The Ravens Became Crows” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)
Posted 14 September 2020
“Unpolished”
2020-06-30
Written 17 September 2019 in Payne County, Oklahoma.
Brian Fuchs, “Unpolished” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)
“Daucus carota”
2020-06-17
for Angela
Written 17 September 2019 in Payne County, Oklahoma
Brian Fuchs, “Daucus carota” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)
“Before Kennicott”
2020-06-13
Written 13 June 2008 in Anchorage, Alaska.
Brian Fuchs, “Before Kennicott” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)
Now Available!
2019-09-27
It’s finally out. And I can finally get some sleep! Here are the links to my book on Amazon. I think it looks so much better in paperback, but there is a Kindle version available.
If you don’t already know what’s up, here’s a little backstory. I’ve been writing since I was a child. My first poem that I remember was written in October 1988 when I was 9 years old. When I was 12, my teacher accused me of plagiarism because she didn’t think a child could write. I don’t say that to congratulate myself at all. I’m not even sure if that was worth all the aggravation. It has been lost to time. It was titled Paige and it was about the life of a woman who never finds happiness. But I imagine the actual poem would seem completely juvenile now.
I started writing in earnest in college and since 1997 I have written consistently. While I veer off into other projects, like short stories or novels, I find poetry that I always return to poetry and enjoy writing it. Over the years, I’ve developed my own style. That is a good thing. The problem is that I also haven’t had serious critique of my work since I graduated from college, so I don’t actually know how my work is seen by others. I’m amazed that I’ve managed to spend the better part of 20 years unwilling to share my work for fear of rejection. And I really should have managed that sooner!
When I lost Mom last year, the first thing I did was crawled into a metaphorical hole for 9 months. I wanted to disappear because I didn’t understand how one can live without his mama, and I’m not too proud to say it. It also brought a few things into focus. One of those things was letting go of the expectations and opinions of others. Now, I mean of me as a person, not my work. That is a lesson that has been taught to me my entire life, but sometimes things need to cook for a while.
So, now I’ve got a book. I worked diligently over the summer to get it done. My garden is sad and neglected, my roommate is sad and neglected, and my family… well, they are too busy to have noticed, but if they had I imagine they would feel sad and neglected. For this first collection of poems (because I don’t want it to be the last!), I wanted to focus on a few things: 1. Poems with very specific references to people. It’s not that I won’t write that way in the future, but I wanted to give people the words I had written for them before getting into other subjects. 2. Epitaphs. I’ve lost a lot of people and I often have things to say about that. I’d like to get through a lot of those I’ve had lying around, but there are many more. 3. My very favorite poems I’ve written… that aren’t too scandalous. I get it, family will buy this first book. They will even hang on for a second, but by the third they won’t be too fussed about it. So, I have actually created a plan where my third book is where I completely let my hair down. That does mean I have to do at least 2 more books, but it also sounds like I’m censoring myself. In a way I am, but I’m not completely either. I want my prudish great aunt to be able to have something she will never read, but that won’t make her blush too much if she decides to open it up.
Last thing I will say about it, I decided to make notes on each poem. Rather than include them in the actual printed book, they can be found here… in the writing tab, or at this link.
“Pieces of Dissected Butterflies”
2019-09-12
Pieces of Dissected Butterflies
I left Tulsa when my friends had died
and we were all set adrift, angry and lost,
wondering if staying meant more of us would die.
I tried to go to Dallas, to a life I wanted.
They boys swarm thickly there,
and I still wonder if my days would have been
spent in the beds of strangers if I’d gone there.
I’ve always longed for the beds of strangers,
to feel taken for granted and awkward.
In moving, I detoured, finding myself in Anchorage,
near the place where my dad spent his youth,
carried on winds I rode for too long, or just long enough.
I was not qualified for life in Alaska,
not qualified for the men who had gone there.
But I was determined to find myself,
or to find Dad in the places where his friends still lived.
His youth was left in an Alaska that no longer exists,
so my mind found new reasons to keep me there.
I found the spaces I understood,
the pockets of the city that seemed familiar,
bookstores filled with other refugees,
of lives that had started to drift.
My mind invented the things I didn’t know
and the people around me became gods.
I didn’t question that, and I formed a religion.
Their lives were spent being perfect
in ways I could never spend my own life.
They are still gods; I pray to them in darkness,
my soul crying out to be acknowledged.
On cold mornings, I liked to price books,
scanning their barcodes and attaching a sticker.
I would think about my friends,
wonder about the shapes of their bodies,
and worry that they could hear my thoughts.
I’d worry that I was saying the thoughts aloud,
and I’d wait for Kevin to go upstairs to inject his insulin
so I could stop thinking about his waist.
I’m still thinking about his waist.
The decade I’ve had to reflect has made me more curious
and sometimes I worry that he can still hear my thoughts.
I have been dissecting butterflies,
stained glass wings pulled apart
by unwieldy spinning steel fingers
as I think about beauty and conformity,
praying to my gods, mindlessly offering
the insects as a tribute.
I didn’t intend this massacre
and in the lawn lie the tiny lifeless parts.
In the hot sun of the places of my youth,
I don’t have new shapes to fill my mind,
new boys to think about.
I dwell on the boys of my past.
I’m reaching back, feeling myself grasping
for people I can’t always recognize,
the names apparitions in my mind.
Some of the gods’ faces have merged & morphed.
I’m taking the ones I wanted the most,
or the ones I wanted to be the most,
and placing their pieces where I can sort them
and try to hold onto them in my mind.
I’m still thinking about waists and hips and shoulders,
still wondering about the firmness of skin.
They haven’t seen me wondering,
their lives have pulled them toward much happier places,
some growing beautifully in Alaska,
others found scattered by the winds
that had first deposited them near me.
The butterflies are whispering secrets,
understandably warning each other about me.
In new cities and states, in their new lives,
they think about the times we spent together
and I go on thinking about their bodies.
Written 12 September 2019 in Payne County, Oklahoma.
Brian Fuchs, “Pieces of Dissected Butterflies” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)
Why I’m Vegan
2016-07-31
My History with Vegetarianism and Veganism
As long as I can remember, I’ve had a strained relationship with food. I don’t have many food memories stored up, but I remember loving pizza, fruit, cereal, and burgers. I started gaining weight in 3rd or 4th grade. It wasn’t so much that I craved food, but that I was eating junk. I had no idea how to eat properly, and enjoyed chips and candy frequently. By 7th grade, I had repeated stomach problems so severe that I was taken to a doctor who told me to not eat red meat or fried foods. Ever. My stomach issues cleared up. I was able to mostly eliminate red meat and no longer ate fried foods. My diet was not actually improved; I was only doing the minimum required to not be in pain. The candies, sodas, and other foods continued.
When I was in middle school I became friends with a kid from a family that was vegan. He also didn’t eat wheat, salt, or sugar. Eating at his house felt like being in a different country, and my parents certainly didn’t know how to feed him at our house. Things were always awkward between him and most other people. A lot of ridicule was thrown his way, and behind his back he was referred to pejoratively as “veggie boy.” I defended him, but in my mind the family’s vegan lifestyle was akin to a minority religion. He was always thin and short, traits that were attributed to his diet. Vegetarianism and veganism were seem as extreme in Oklahoma culture. The official state meal, adopted in 1988, consists of fried okra, cornbread, barbecue pork, squash, biscuits, sausage and gravy, grits, corn, strawberries, chicked fried steak, pecan pie, and black-eyed peas. While one could make a strong argument for at least part of this being designated “Oklahoma Historical State Meal,” as a current meal it definitely marginalizes plant-based lifestyles.
I started to form my own opinions on eating meat when I was in high school. Veganism didn’t seem right, or healthy. My friend seemed to be malnourished, so I made the assumptions everyone else had made. Still, the idea of eating animals seemed increasingly in conflict with my love of animals. Love of animals is a misunderstood term, and one that has been a part of who I am for most of my life. I liked to read about animal behavior in encyclopedias, National Geographic magazines, and in my subscriptions to National and International Wildlife magazines. I was hooked on natural history and plastered the walls of my bedroom with images from magazines of the animals I liked the most — cats, insects, giraffes, gorillas, dolphins, peacocks, dinosaurs, and many others. I was starting to see them as fellow inhabitants of the same planet and that belief made it harder and harder to want to see parts of animals cooked up for me to consume. I wasn’t making a full connection. It’s easy to forget what the thin round brown disc on a burger actually is. It’s almost designed to prevent knowing. I would go back and forth on my willingness to eat animals for a few years. I found it easier in college; the student union offered a veggie patty that I could have with my Josta soda and I could get a bean burrito or veggie sub for dinner. Feeding myself allowed me to eschew the animal foods that were generally consumed by other family members. I still wasn’t terribly strict with myself, allowing myself to enjoy the McDonald’s where my roommate worked.
I drifted away from these values after college. I have always been an eager people pleaser, and when I started spending time with a group of new friends, I didn’t want to seem odd. Enjoying the meats they cooked allowed me to fit in better. I would still try to be mostly plant-based, but did not turn down animal meals either. I still had issues with eating the animals, but I was more than willing to trade in my personal beliefs to make sure my friends were comfortable. It’s the only way in which I feel Southern.
Honoring My Values
In 2005, I took an opportunity from my dad to visit Alaska. He had grown up there and I was eager to see it. I was working on a novel based on his life at the time, so it seemed logical that I should go see where it all began. A friend went with me for the first week and I would stay a full month. My dad had found two places for me to stay, both at the homes of high school friends of his. At the end of the first week, I had decided I was moving, and my friend was eager to join me. She returned and orchestrated the move while I continued to stay and look for a job. The second two weeks of my vacation were spent housesitting for a couple who are vagan. Even with my history, I found it off-putting. I would go through their pantry and cabinets looking at all the unusual foods. It was not what I was used to. And I didn’t fully embrace the experience, as I should have. I took pleasure in buying fried chicken and eating it in the living room, a secret act of defiance. I’m still sad about that situation.
After a little over a year in Alaska, I was alone and starting to really reflect on the person I really wanted to be and learning how to focus on myself while I developed relationships with a newly emerging group of friends. During that first year, I was eating meat at least once a day. I didn’t feel right. I was having trouble staying happy. 2006 was coming to a close when I had the epiphany that I could no longer eat meat. I was eating lamb at the time and I could feel it in my mouth as I masticated; it was no longer food. The lamb had been alive, every bit as much as I am alive, and it certainly did not belong inside my body. It should have been allowed to mature, to be free, to become a sheep. I had been a part of that creature’s death, the demand that required it to be killed and included in my meal. I could see its little lamb face in my mind. It was adorable, to be sure, but I was more struck by the audacity of eating another creature because I wanted to, disregarding its family and community. Don’t kid yourself, sheep have communities. Cows have best friends and a matriarchal society. Chickens organize themselves into a complex hierarchy, the origin of the term “pecking order.” These animals aren’t sitting around waiting to become a meal. They are trying to live full lives, as much as they can with what we give them.
It all came down on my and I cried. I cried a lot and wanted the animal out of my body. I have not eaten meat since.
I did just a small amount of research at the time. I had been been going back and forth with vegetarianism for ten years at that point, so I felt like I had a handle on the facts enough to not dig much deeper. I had made a partial connection, but I was blind to part of the story.
Making the Connection
My roommate had become bored with the vegetarian meals we ate. I tend to just stick to the same things over and over, but I went online is search of some new recipes. I started on YouTube, searching for vegan recipes. I chose vegan as my search term so I could make sure to not get fish recipes. I assume those people still exist, so it seemed safest — or at least more efficient — to find vegan recipes and add cheese to whatever I found. I watched a lot of YouTube videos. I started with recipes, went into grocery hauls, “what I ate” vlogs, and personal stories about going vegetarian or vegan. I had found a community of people who made sense to me. These were nonjudgmental souls who seemed to strongly care about life. They cared about other beings, about the planet, and about what they chose to put in their bodies. The pieces of the puzzle started coming together. I went further than I expected and chose to watch a few activism videos. I wasn’t able to ignore what I was watching.
Being vegan, as was learning from these folks, was not as hard or restrictive as I had believed. It seemed downright easy, and close to what I was already doing. I had been one of those vegetarians who would defend myself by saying “at least I’m not a vegan,” a statement that did not really make sense. I find the anger directed at vegans interesting and unfounded. I’m not sure where it comes from, but maybe its insecurity. Non-vegans may feel like they could be doing things wrong. How is it extreme to not eat animals?
There is a fair amount of misunderstanding about vegetarianism and veganism. I’ve already spent a lot of time explaining to people how I get my protein, if I properly combine my foods, and why I don’t like bacon. I deal with the innocent taunts by family members who think its cute to wave meats at me or tell me I just don’t get how delicious it is. They don’t get it. They might never understand what I’m trying to do for myself, but in the case of the kids I just have to tolerate it until I believe they are old enough to process my reasons. I was letting my family know that I had decided to go to a plant-based diet, a more palatable term, when my nephew said “as long as you haven’t gone vegan.” I had, and said as much. But I’m bothered by the implication. He meant no harm, of course. He is old enough to understand my arguments, and I may go into them at some point, but what bothered me is the acceptance of a plant-based lifestyle in one moment, and a dismissal of the same lifestyle once it had been termed as vegan. It never wasn’t.
There exists this image of vegans as unkempt vagabonds whose privileged childhoods allowed them to explore themselves to their own detriment. This person has spent time in the peace corps, not for altruistic reasons, has spent time panhandling in Amsterdam, and has taken on the spiritualism of multiple cultures, none of which they understand. They have given up body care products, which they claim to no longer need in spite of that odor they seem to have. And they have to gall to tell those around them everything nobody asked about the food they are eating or the clothes they are wearing. These are the vegans who will always find fault with one thing or another, the milk or caffeine or leather… They will explain to you that you should eat organic, raw, local, fair-trade, and GMO-free. They will understand none of these things. They will point out how the company that made the shoes you are wearing also makes leather shoes and so should be boycotted. These people are poor by choice — Mom, Dad, and the trust fund are only a phone call away. They are obnoxious, self-righteous, and hypocritical. And they are not typical of vegans, in spite of the stereotype. They make veganism feel like such a struggle.
Only it’s not.
I am evolving because I have chosen to turn off the criticism I receive, real or perceived. I’ve allowed myself to accept the education I had ignored before. I have watched the documentaries, read the blogs, been horrified by what I’ve seen. Ignorance was wonderfully happy, but it allowed me to excuse things I knew in my heart to be wrong. Education is so important to furthering oneself as a human being.
I’m going to slip up. I’m going to do things and eat things that others would not. I’m going to feel weakened by the arguments of those I love and fail to keep up with what I’ve chosen for myself. I know these things. But as time passes, I know I’ll be able to stand my ground and develop my arguments more fully. I’ve never been great with debate, but I’m going to need to find tools to help stay myself. And I’m going to share what I’ve learned with others. I fully believe that your convictions and beliefs should be challenged often. If your mind is changed, then your values were not what you thought them to be. If, in the face of the information I share, people do not feel compelled to change, then I will have done what I can. It isn’t for me to force compassionate living.
December 27, 2006 I became a vegetarian. July 27, 2016 I became a vegan. I’m so excited about where this will take me.
But Wait, I’m Fat Too!
I’m overweight. I’ve touched on that somewhat, but probably less than I should have. The thing is that my decision to go vegan had nothing to do with my health. My choices with regard to animals and how much a part of my diet they should be has never been about my weight.
Still, it is interesting that I managed to gain so much weight in just under ten years of vegetarianism. But I wasn’t the model of vegetarian nutrition. I love mozzarella cheese. I could eat it as a meal. I love potato chips, and fast food, and frozen burritos. I have spent years eating to worst possible things for myself. I was calorie restricting at times, but still eating junk. I have failed at being healthy. To be fair, I wasn’t really trying.
Veganism is a lifestyle dominated by compassion, not a specific diet. There are many ways to be vegan. I could, if I chose, consume a diet of only Oreos, Coca-Cola, and potato chips. I’d be vegan, but I don’t think I’d feel very good about it. I could also eat nothing but salads three times a day, crunching on apples as a snack as well. I’d definitely be vegan, but I would not be healthy at all.
The plan I’ve chosen, and that I’ve felt so good on for the past week, is high carb, low fat. It’s a mainly whole foods plan, and does not include oils. It feels clean and abundant, as it is very important for vegans to make sure they get enough calories to be satiated. To do so, I eat a lot more than I used to. That is the part that I’ve found the most difficult; my vegetarian diet consisted largely of one or two meals with a lot of calories from fats, dairy, and eggs. Those are not nutrient rich sources of calories, but they are easier. Now I’m trying to get to at least 2500 calories daily. I feel energetic. I’ve got so much extra weight that this energy is hard to use efficiently, but I’m hoping that I drop some weight so I can start exercising vigorously. I believe that this is the way to do that. I’ve looked into studies done by reputable institution, watched lectures by doctors who have studies plant-based nutrition, and read testimonials by others enjoying this lifestyle. The consensus seems to be that eating in this way will encourage the body to work toward its ideal weight. It isn’t instant; it may not even be fast. But if I stick with it I should see the results I want. More importantly, I’d like to solve what seem to be compounding health issues. I don’t want to be on medications for allergies or blood pressure. I don’t want worry about headaches, backaches, depression, chronic fatigue, knee pain, heart disease, cancer, or any of the other ailments that seem inevitable in my future.
I’ve been eating 5 meals a day, following a fairly consistent pattern.
Meal 1: (around 6:00am) Early morning. This is my when I like to have water and fruit. It wakes me up, but doesn’t seem too harsh. After this meal, I start a pot of coffee (yep.) and get ready for my day.
Meal 2: (mid morning) Carbs! This is a couple cups of oatmeal or rice with coffee. Maybe a little fruit mixed in. If I want something like a cake or bread I’d probably have it here.
Meal 3: (noonish) A big salad is perfect at this point, but I’m flexible. I might have more fruit or some cereal or whatever. If my rice was particularly filling, I might skip this meal.
Meal 4: (late afternoon) A can of beans plus a can of stewed tomatoes can be great in the afternoon. Its filling without being too much. Some pasta or a sandwich or veggie burrito is also great at this time. I like vegan meat substitutes and this is where I usually enjoy them.
Meal 5: (early evening) My final meal of the day is usually potatoes of some sort, maybe with a green salad. I love potatoes in all forms.
Resources
Documentaries
Forks Over Knives — Trailer : Website This documentary makes the case for a plant-based diet from a health perspective. I found this one life changing. Usually available to watch on Netflix.
Dr. Michael Greger — “Uprooting the Leading Causes of Death” : NutritionFacts.org : Website Dr. Michael Greger M.D. reveals the findings of many studies over several decades showing the beneficial effects of a whole food, plant-based diet. “Uprooting the Leading Causes of Death” is one of his annual presentations on the newest findings in nutrition in which he discusses 14 of the top 15 leading causes of death in America and how they can be prevented, treated, and/or reversed by a plant-based diet.
Cowspiracy — Trailer : Website This illuminating film attempts to un-silence the link between animal agriculture and the decline of the planet’s health. Anyone interested in not living in a dystopian future, give this one a watch.
Earthlings — Trailer Joaquin Phoenix narrates a difficult-to-watch, but important documentary on the suffering of animals for the amusement and feeding of humans. It can be difficult to change the perceptions of superiority, but it is worth watching.
Gary Yourofsky — “The Best Speech You Will Ever Hear” full speech + Q&A : Website Yourofsky is a skilled orator and makes the case for veganism with extremely well-framed arguments. This is a must-watch for many vegans. It is great, but I’d also watch a few of Yourofsky’s TV appearances. He is so versed in his cause that he calmly dismantles those who try to debate him.
There are also a lot of fantastic YouTube channels:
Mr. and Mrs. Vegan – Nutrition, Recipes, Vlog, Weight Loss
The Vegan Corner – Recipes
Mic. the Vegan – Activism
That Vegan Couple – Activism, Vlog, Recipes, Nutrition
Hot for Food – Recipes
Freelee the Banana Girl – Nutrition, Activism, Fitness, Vlog, Weight Loss
The Light Twins – Fitness, Recipes, Vlog, Nutrition, Activism, Weight Loss
NutritionFacts.org – Nutrition, Weight Loss
Jon Venus – Fitness, Nutrition, Vlog
Guilt Free Vegan – Vlog, Recipes, Fitness, Nutrition
Learn Organic Gardening – Gardening, Nutrition, Activism
EdgyVeg – Recipes
Life al Dente – Vlog
Peaceful Cuisine – Recipes
BananaTV – Vlog, Recipes, Activism
Jenny Mustard – Recipes, Vlog, Lifestyle, Nutrition
Sweet Potato Soul – Recipes
Mary’s Test Kitchen – Recipes
Running Vegan – Fitness, Nutrition, Activism
Bite Size Vegan – Activism
Cheap Lazy Vegan – Recipes
Healthiest Vegan – Vlog, Nutrition
Unnatural Vegan – Activism, Nutrition
Handyman Bananas – Recipes, Fitness
The Butterfly Effect — Plant-Based Weight Loss – Nutrition, Weight Loss, Vlog
Reach4Raw – Weight Loss, Vlog, Lifestyle
Vegan Gains – Activism, Fitness, Nutrition, Vlog
Dr. John McDougall – Nutrition
and many, many others….
“Meeting Skylar & Wesleyan at the Grey Gardens Disco”
2012-12-02
Meeting Skylar & Wesleyan at the Grey Gardens Disco
Secrets feel more like friends than flesh,
written on the tightly rolled scrolls and tied loosely with a scrap of string.
These are the days when life is slipping past so quickly that I cannot seem to find a way back to it, a way to engage. I want to write my own secrets on tiny scrolls, but their contents would drive away even those I’m barely clinging to and they’d slip further into the torrent
away from me.
Time has been cruel, much more than I could have expected.
Mine will be the story that goes untold, unrecorded, unremembered.
Inaction fuels inaction and so I do not move, do not move, do not move. There are lives happening, I’ve been told, beyond the threshold I’m so afraid to cross. The moments I should’ve had hold me back, keep me wondering, force me into the safety of my empty bed
where the quiet loneliness can comfort me.
After the house has filled with leaves and dust and snow,
beyond the carefully orchestrated solitude, celebrations go on without me.
The most beautiful hear the music within themselves, gaily swinging auburn hair and laughing at their own unfunny puns. Merriment and giddiness come on like migraines and I find myself waving a flag and dancing joyously, still unable to coax myself from my home.
Happiness feels so foreign.
Ugliness greets me in every mirror, an old addictive friend
and the voids I’ve created have grown to feel comfortable on my miserable soul.
I’ve failed to learn the steps, and I am terrified that the dance will go on with out me. I look at the hollowness of the collected things around me, dismayed that I’ve become this me. This is the me that will keep happiness in its place
far away.
Nothing excuses knowing about leopard print,
a secret that seems to have allowed me to let go of ill-advised longings.
How incredibly sad it is to not find me so alluring that you can see past my plentiful flaws. I have known for quite some time that if I live my life alone, dying before I know love, that it is not me who is to blame, although I understand the temptation. It is others
who fail to see how happy I would make them.
Could these children have caused my empty world’s destruction?
set in motion events that will cause this tomb around me to collapse.
It’s too soon to know, but I welcome the crumbling. My stacks of nonsense are poised to fall into a blissful abyss. Oh, what exquisite joy I know I will feel when the rooms are all empty and there is just me to fill the space.
And someone to help me fill it, I hope.
Hope, indeed. It is all that keeps me from dropping into the crevasse myself,
cementing my loneliness forever with my inability to change.
I’ve begun to remember who I used to be and have found people who make me hate myself less and less every moment. But not even their patience can be endless, so if I am not to miss out on the Brian I’ve been trying to become again, I need to ask fast
and meet my friends for a drink.
Written 2 December 2012 in Anchorage, Alaska.
Brian Fuchs, “Meeting Skylar & Wesleyan at the Grey Gardens Disco” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)
Formatting on WordPress ended up looking a little off, but this was as close as I could get it. The first lines of the stanzas shouldn’t be separated, but indenting a line requires making a new paragraph. If I figure out how to change that, I will.
“Daniel Naranjo”
2011-10-15
Daniel Naranjo
I itch for the subtle way joy emerges
from your face – overcome with yourself,
with yourself.
It’s lovely. You’re lovely.
You aren’t so familiar, aren’t so unfamiliar.
In the long months between,
everything misses you.
My senses feel achy and empty without
your enchanting aura of smoke and wine.
I smile, thinking of that laugh,
you know the one,
that erupts accidentally when you’ve
amused yourself.
God, I love that laugh.
You blew in on winds you could’ve
ridden forever, resigned to not settle,
loving the feel of the dust
whipping through your pores,
hair, teeth.
You seem reluctant,
you seem reluctant,
reluctant. Or is that me?
I decided to write you a poem,
a poem of you, the you I know of,
the you who is only a slight version of you.
It took four years to say
things about your loveliness,
about the smoke and the wine,
about Oregon and Alaska,
about loving your laugh.
It wasn’t just joy, was it?
I detected some shame,
loved that shame, if that’s what it was,
wanted to live in that feeling.
I’ll remember that face,
remembering how much I love you,
and I’ll exist for a few seconds
in that moment, that feeling,
inside a space you created.
I believe in horses and you,
I believe in me and you,
I believe in you
and you.
Written 25 October 2011 in Anchorage, Alaska.
Brian Fuchs, “Daniel Naranjo” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)
All Creatures Great and Small?… I Guess
2010-08-22
August is more than halfway over. Here in Anchorage summer has already conceded defeat to this in-between drippy season that is a sort of pre-autumn. I love it, as I do most weather. My mom is like that too — perhaps it is from her that I’ve taken this attitude. It doesn’t matter what is going on outside; everything has its own merits and it is all worthy of awe. Mind you, I’m overjoyed that I no longer experience the many many months of humidly hot days that are Oklahoma summers. But even a few days of that should be taken in every once in a while.
My semi-subterranean home has once again become a refugee camp for anything small enough to find a way in and away from the cooling temperatures and the wet. I don’t mind sharing my home with these tiny animals. Mosquitoes are not welcome, and I’m afraid are dealt with harshly. Flies are relentlessly shooed and may also be dealt with if they don’t take my hints that they’ve overstayed their welcome (which is quite short anyway). Beyond that, I don’t give trouble to anything that gives me none.
I was chasing flies around the bathroom, swatting them in the general direction of the open window, hoping they’d move along, when I noticed that this year has not brought a single insect in so much as pairs. It is as if the insect & spider community is sending delegates and are only individually represented. For days there has been a seemingly dumbfounded ant scooting his too big body in and out of the spaces just under the cabinets, always at times that are inconvenient for me to capture and release him outside. As far back as I can remember into my childhood, I’ve wondered about these individuals, about the lives they’ve lead until now. I was initially worried that this was a queen looking for a spot to start a new colony (oh, please! not my little bathroom!), but I think it is just a wayward member of a colony from the flower bed just beyond my porch.
Chances are very great that any ant won’t live long anyway. My house is host to a variety of harvesters and spiders all ready to prey on the other refugees. Spiders are amazing. Even at the times I believe my home is free of all crawly things, I’ll see one appear from nowhere and scuttle off to an again unknown place. This is again one of those instances when the ‘live and let live’ rule applies for me. In my book spiders are good. In a basement environment, the lack of more insects is likely thanks to the arachnid guardians who have set up snares at the entrances. I thank them.
All of this makes it sound as if my home is crawling with critters. Just the thought of that gives me chills. It isn’t like that. Anything that dares leave the sanctuaries of the laundry room or bathroom quickly becomes a brief plaything for the kitties, and then a light snack. Even in those relatively safe places, the insects and spiders have to be fairly clever at hiding. Bothering me definitely includes making yourself too well known. If a garden beetles plops himself in the middle of the bathroom floor, he’ll be excused onto the porch where sadly I’ll leave him to his fate.
But really, I like knowing that the world is alive around me. While it makes me feel increasingly small, it also makes me feel more connected to the world somehow. And allowing benign ecosystems to form in darkest corners of my basement apartment makes me feel a little bit benevolent.
I’m ready to start shedding the skin of my twenties
2008-08-05
Birth
And now, this 29th time around the sun is coming to an end.
My trips seems less celebratory than ever, but somehow more satisfying.
I enter the final year of my 20s this very second.
It isn’t a disconnection, it isn’t loss.
Life seems to have only just begun.
8.5.2008 (written at the minute of my birth, 9:01a.m. AKDT; 12:01p.m. CDT)
I’ve begun my 30th trip. How is it that my birthday always feel a little different from other days? I suppose I’ve wondered that before, but leading up to today I really thought that this birthday, more than any other, would feel like just an ordinary day. Perhaps it is the cold I’ve had or the frustration of life not going the way it is supposed to go, but things haven’t been as merry as I’d like. Today, that seems to have changed. I am still waiting for adulthood — or the realization of — to smack me in the face.
My day started beautifully. I had decided to not go over to David & Daniel’s last night after they called and told me they were going to bed instead (the initial plan had been to go over there), but I decided that I wanted the change of scenery. The first minutes of the day were spent rediscovering what it is like to be outside in the dark. It seems like it has been a long time since that happened, with the longer days of summer. It even struck me as odd that it would be dark at midnight. Daniel got up to join me while I used the computer at their house, which was nice. I stayed a couple hours, then came home and slept for a bit. Since waking up this morning, I’ve spent the day updating poems that I had written earlier this year. I’ve also done a tiny bit of writing today, but more editing. Let me know what you think of the revised versions. I think I finally am getting “Whale” where it needs to be. Also, is this “more” thing annoying or not?
Birds
Summer failed to arrive in this grey urbanity.
Anchorage feels naked, empty
without the carpet of ice and snow crunching below.
I was aware of it when lupines and wild roses
heralded the arrival of what should have been June.
I was keenly aware of the missing white when
flowers conceded, accepting the cruelty of warmthlessness.
This city is wet now, as the great lion arrives.
Saddened by this dreary failure, the cat weeps,
drizzles pulling themselves from a sky
that has married itself with concrete.
The world darkens, turning even more grey and distant.
All hope escapes of summer, of warmth.
It’ll return to Alaska now, the familiar cold driving
away smaller birds and welcoming ravens.
In the merriment of an metropolitan buffet,
they’ll shoo the clouds, revealing the sun,
shining brightly on the brief days of a frozen world.
7.27.2008
Lightning Bugs
It hasn’t been enough to love people
to grasp at them, lightning bugs
I want to jar and admire.
They’ve been too quick, lighting up
and confusing me.
I’m no longer willing to feel
punished by time, by God (or god),
by the will of those who just
don’t want me.
5.15.2008
Whale
ode to my vanity
I sneak upon you, surprising you
from beneath your feet.
From not knowing to knowing,
I grow enormous and fill you field of view,
become your entire world for a few moments.
I press on away from you towards newness,
fading slowly away into the blue and into
the recesses of your mind,
an image of something that was,
but that is no longer so impressive.
I long to rekindle the wonder you felt
the first time I allowed you to see,
but the second time I swim by
you’ll think you remembered me larger.
3.29.2008
Sun Vs. Son
Sun
Falling rays prove merciless;
the hospital all robed in pink fills with babies,
exhausted mothers
breathless
from rising heat.
Son,
colored like the sun and screaming,
comfort taken too hastily.
The minty green dressed men and women
put the baby in a box, shine lights,
drain the sun from his skin.
Rejoicing, the sun burns more fiercely.
The world sighs.
8.4.2008
The Short Reign of a Queen
Heather warmly picked up the old girl,
dusted her off and proudly placed her
high on a pedestal.
Norma purred, closed her eyes.
The two fell in love among yaps
and slobbers.
Comfort, home, family, importance.
Heather’d created a queen and Norma
was content to be crowned.
Amid celebrations of the new monarch,
Norma’s life quietly expired.
Heather’s heart broke and tears flooded
the world; nobody could be as they once were.
7.11.2008
The Short Reign of a Queen is a revised version of a poem I had been afraid to post. I think it captures the situation now, so I offer it to the world.
Smoking, Waiting
With clouds of nothing else to occupy my time,
I’ve paced the walkways in front of jobs
where I arrived too early, cigarette in hand,
waiting for purpose.
Work is not and cannot be life or love,
the search for these things prevents
nervousness and the need to smoke.
4.16.2008
Featured Image Art: photo by David Clode (via Unsplash)
August came a bit early, merging with lingering Spring.
2008-07-27
Birds
The scheming magpies’ plan must’ve worked;
summer failed to arrive in this grey and spiraling urbanity.
Anchorage feels naked, empty
without the carpet of ice and snow crunching below.
I was aware of it when lupines and wild roses
heralded the arrival of what should have been June.
I was keenly aware of the missing white when
flowers conceded, accepting the cruelty of warmthlessness.
This city is wet now, as the great lion arrives.
Saddened by this dreary failure, the cat weeps,
drizzles pulling themselves from a sky
that has married itself with concrete.
The world darkens, turning grey and distant.
All hope escapes of summer, of warmth.
It’ll return to Alaska now, familiar cold eventually driving
away those smaller birds and welcoming the giant cousins,
the benevolent and ominous ravens, keepers of my soul.
In the merriment of an metropolitan buffet,
they’ll shoo the clouds, revealing the sun,
still hanging where they’d first placed it.
7.27.2008
What do I think of this poem? I almost feel like I was trying too hard. I’m still blocked and the words are not coming in waves. They take effort, like these, to release. I nearly like it, but may need to scrap an animal reference.
Featured Image Art: vintage illustration of a magpie
Confessions of Someone Who Needs to Lighten Up
2008-07-16
I’ve always felt solitary. Not alone, not always lonely, but content to just be with myself. But I need the company of loved ones more often than I remember and the lack of such company makes keeping my head up an arduous endeavor. I certainly don’t take joy in sounding miserable when all indications are that I am rather happy, but I am not as satisfied with my life as I could be.
I’ve felt hurt by the rather unintentional acts of both of my close friends in Alaska. And while it has been easy to point to them as the cause of my hurt, it has been dishonest on my part. They have been living quite happy lives, lives I am so happy that each of them has found. If I were faced with a life filled with someone to give all this love to, I too might become rather inconsiderate of the feelings of mere friends. But that knowledge does not mitigate the emotional pain. They are not responsible for my perpetual bachelorhood and I don’t fault them for their happiness. It can be difficult to realize that I don’t sit at the center of other people’s worlds.
Existential crises are becoming common. Friends tend to distract me enough to not over think what it means to be me. Forgive my depressed ramblings and heavy heart. I just feel alone sometimes and I just want someone else to know about it. I’m fine; I always am.
Featured Image Art: AI Image (created using StarryAI)