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Daucus carota

for Angela

We came together
to write new chapters
and to tell stories,
if only to ourselves.
Some were writing voluminous sagas,
spending time in cabins
they hoped to translate
like a Boris Pasternak
of Alaska’s near-wilderness.
Others wrote their memoirs,
revealing to us all
just how cold snow can feel
to a Samoan family.
We’d laugh at how ridiculous it all seemed,
and at ourselves because we
are all ridiculous and cold.
I worked on new lines of verse,
wrapped up in myself,
observing and reserved.
We were all doing our part,
all trying to be interesting.
Angela would arrive with carrots,
small globes pulled from her own garden,
and some tea from her travels.
Or beets,
pomelos.
The pomelos she’d purchased
at a grocery store because oranges
and grapefuit
are too ordinary.
They invite no questions.
Her story would transport us
to the places in other states and countries
where she had enjoyed a meal,
or to the soil of her garden,
bursting with vegetables.
And we’d talk about gardening
and the carrots
and hunting.
I would watch her face,
framed with a desire
to be accepted,
to be loved,
appreciated for her carrots and pomelos.
My life would hang there,
uninteresting
and I wouldn’t talk about that with her.
I thought about other Angelas
of my past.
They didn’t share beets with me,
and their offices didn’t have
the sweet aroma of a teahouse,
cinnamon, clove, raspberry,
vanilla, soil.
I wonder about the bonfires
I never attended.
The discarded wood,
the friends and beer.
Was Angela there,
bunch of carrots in hand?
I can see her with the glow on her face
from the brilliant fire,
reflections of children or dogs in her eyes,
smiling because she is happy,
always happy.
What about Faydra?
She has surely lit a few fires
in her solitude.
I wonder how brilliant
the fires used to be for her,
I wonder how dull the fires seem now.
Oh, Faydra!
Faydra
Faydra
I wonder if the carrots help
on the days when things
start to collapse.
I worry about the darkness,
understand it.
When our stories are all written,
will we understand the languages
in which they’ve been written?
I find my own language so difficult,
and I worry about understanding
the bonfires we all set for ourselves,
the interest we take in pomelos,
carrots, cabins, the sun, or
which tea goes best
with happiness.

Written 17 September 2019 in Payne County, Oklahoma

Brian Fuchs, “Daucus carota” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)

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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.Continue Reading

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I got out of Anchorage for nearly three days. David, Daniel, Denis, & I took a trip to McCarthy & Kennecott in the Copper River Basin. Kennecott is an old mining town that was abandoned in 1938. The trip was beautiful, therapeutic, and well-deserved by all of us.

Honestly, I imagined great tension and possible distance on our return, but the four of us play very well off one another and if I can get over my jealousy that the other three live in two adjacent houses far from me, I think we’ll continue to have a strong relationship.

I’m not a nature person… so I say, but I do really enjoy getting out and doing things like this trip. I mainly say these things about not being a nature person to prevent people from inviting me on adventures that I can resent them for going on later. I should see someone about that, but for now I will just admit it and try to deal with it. I seem to be all too willing to sabotage my own happiness. Curious. I think getting a little nature all over me was good.

My pictures will be around soon. Too tired to care tonight.Continue Reading

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I paused to bend your ear [it didn’t go well]

Secrets whispered make this place
tolerable, despite crumudgeons
who’d have it otherwise.
Would-be librarians shush us,
make get-back-to-work motions.
My face goes blank like a yokel
with nothin’ in my noggin ‘cept dust.
I’m animally staring into
the headlights of disapproval,
amazed that people think
themselves as so much more
important than they are.
I forget the secrets for now,
pretend to obey these adults who
wish to again be hall monitors.
I’ll wait and shout bits as I pass by
to show you that I still include you.
Together we’ll prove ourselves here
and these asses will fall away
to make room for our ascent.

5.20.2008

I’ve discovered that I wasn’t the only person to want to create a Title Wave book. Now, having discussed it with a coworker, I’m going to try hard to make it happen. He proposed donating profits to a charity, which I think is brilliant. We wouldn’t be in it for the money anyway. Now, choosing the right people to run it will be tough. One of the strongest resources is not a supporter of the project, so we cannot count on that person or the knowledge from them. I think it requires people who are willing to get things done, so I’ll be working on staying on other people about it, as well as myself.Continue Reading

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Elton was amazing. The whole experience was surreal as it never dawned on me that I would actually get to see Elton John… I mean, I understood the concept, but when it was actually happening I was transported somewhere wonderful. I regretted that David was not sitting next to Daniel, who was in the row behind us with his parents, but somehow that seemed nice too. Daniel and his mom really seemed to enjoy one another at the concert.

And yes, I cried a little. It just wouldn’t stay in. There were others who cried too, but I think I’m not supposed to mention it. Oh well.

This month has been great for events. While Elton was certainly the superstar of them — and indeed the biggest star I’ve seen in concert — the others are still worth mentioning. May started with Margaret Cho, which was so much fun… fantastically dirty. I almost feel bad saying so, but it was nice to attend an event surrounded by other gay men. There is something comforting about being around gay men, even when they are trashing you behind your back (and they are). At work, we had several big authors, which gets me as excited, if not more, as other celebrities. Seth Kantner, author of Ordinary Wolves, was in last night to discuss his new book and sign. I felt honored by getting to hear from such a successful writer. Sue Henry, Alaskan mystery novelist, was in last week. Her event was small and not promoted, but the intimate setting was nice and allowed for more of a group discussion on writing rather than a talk about her newest book. Her books sell well all over the country. Although I was not there, John Dean, former White House counsel who was convicted of multiple felonies for his involvement in Watergate, was in on Sunday to sign copies of his books. It was a last minute appearance, but drew a crowd I hear.

I loved being out and about in Anchorage tonight, but somehow still managed to feel out of place. I clearly have some issues to work on. Don’t I always.

If you ever have a chance to see Elton John, do it. It is worth the price of the ticket. And a thousand thank-yous to Daniel, who camped out at Sullivan Arena for 24 hours to get tickets for everyone. It takes a really great person to do that.

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It is December 20th, the shortest day of the year. In places like Fairbanks and Barrow, this is a much bigger deal than it is here in Anchorage, but our days are short enough. The sun will rise at 10:14 and will set at 3:42. To make matters darker, today will be a cloudy day. And actually, that is quite alright with me. Clouds mean warmer air — relief from the negative numbers is far more important to me at the moment than relief from the darkness. As I write this, it is -8° outside. That is the lowest I recall so far this year, but it has hardly been much warmer for several days.

I finished Winkie . It was excellent to the very end. I think I convince myself to not read books because I am rarely satisfied the ending of them. It isn’t the endings themselves, but a realization that I am never going to know what happens to these characters next. Winkie was no different. I will get over it and over the next week, I will realize how much I enjoyed the book. Go pick up a copy; it is well worth your time. Next on my list was to be The World Without Us, but I finished before I had a chance to purchase the new book. I will move on to Holidays On Ice.Continue Reading

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I am officially over being sad. That’s right, over it. Where has all this sadness gotten me? Tired, fat, unmotivated, uninteresting, bitchy, unfriendly, & bored. I have had it up to here (holding hand up to non-specific head part) with this crap!

I recently told a friend that I was sorry she had to see the me she sees because the one inside is so different. It was misconstrued, but easily. What I meant by that is that regardless of this outward façade, I am a very different person inside. My moods are different, my emotions are different, and yes, my body is different. There is nothing wrong with the way I look, but it isn’t reflective of the real me. I wish people could see the person I know, because that one is who I feel I am. I am sorry that they must settle for this imposter.

So, what am I doing about this? Anyone who has known me for any longer than 5 minutes knows that I lose track of things… forget to do routine tasks. I am famous for losing focus and being often lost out on a far tangent, too stretched away from the point to recover. This is my fatal flaw. But I can do it. It just requires that I write it down. If I can write these things out for a long enough time, I will encompass that next day when I feel motivated to do it again, thereby ensuring that I continue to do these whatevers. But it makes me feel terribly nerdy to refer to lists and schedules in my personal life to accomplish mundane tasks.

Vanity must die.

So, I’ve made the pact with myself. I have gathered advice from the few who were privileged with insights into my deterioration. I am determined to become a new me. Two weeks from now, this pact could be all but forgotten, but at the moment I really want to do this. We’ll see where this all takes me.

Thanks to everyone for being so kind. My life is full of the most generous people I have ever known and I appreciate every one of you.Continue Reading