The above is a picture of the Burnet Woods Lake taken earlier this week.
It be frozen. Cincinnati got pulled into what’s been termed a “polar vortex” – a fantastic phrase which of course has made its way into a poem or two already. That said, the vortex itself was not so fantastic. Kinda scary.
The opening in the picture above is usually filled with a constant stream of lake water. On my walk, I couldn’t help but stop by and take note. There was also this:
I say “take note” but the impulse to stop and assess plays out in truly complicated and meaningful ways inside each of us.
Today’s poem Roadkill, by Chase Twichell, explores some of what is behind that impulse, posits want as what drives it and, consequently, drives us.
The poem was published in this week’s New Yorker and posted on Facebook by a friend. One’s Facebook feed is another place where one streams through quickly, trying to keep up. Finding this poem had me taking note. I’m glad I did.
And yes: I just did compare checking out your Facebook feed with checking out roadkill. Just sayin’.
Roadkill – Chase Twichell
I want to see things as they are
without me. Why, I don’t know.
As a kid I always looked
at roadkill close up, and poked
a stick into it. I want to look at death
with eyes like my own baby eyes,
not yet blinded by knowledge.
I told this to my friend the monk,
and he said, want, want, want.
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