.

Poetry is the language of intensity. Because we are going to die, an expression of intensity is justified.

— C.D. Wright

reflections on the first two weeks in lawrence, kansas.

it has been officially two weeks today since our arrival in lawrence, kansas.

we loaded up my (tiny) chevy prism with everything we absolutely NEEDED, and some things we just wanted (like my depression-era pressed glass swan bowl) and hit the road. much of the drive was spent listening to local SLC bands like Band of Annuals, (ps we drove through Hays, Kansas, the hometown of brent, of BoA fame), David Williams, Glade, and Devil Whale, along with some bluegrass/folk/psychedelic/blues/etc mixes that judd made for the drive. i couldn't get enough of I WISH I WAS IN DIXIE LAND. it was a very lovely journey, actually: great soundtrack, nice company, and good views. i saw a lot of pronghorns in wyoming-- i stopped counting when i started seeing herds. we stopped in colby, kansas, to sleep, and from there it was about 4 or 5 hours to lawrence the next day.

now, i can't find my camera chord... in the interest of full disclosure i should mention that these photos are either not mine, or taken from our apartment-hunting trip back in june. when i get the camera chord, get ready for a tour of our new home, and our new town!

our home was built in the early-to-mid-1800s. that means that people who lived here before us were maybe in this home talking about, or hiding from, consequences of bleeding kansas. whoah.

some pretty cool things have happened since moving here, a lot of them bug-related. the midwest is very different from the west, in that they have a lot of bugs here, and that here bugs don't really mind their own business-- they are your neighbors, your tenants, your enemies, and your entertainment. within the first few days i had countless bites all over my legs, and am learning when it is appropriate to wear shorts (not on damp nights, for example, while standing still). but there have been a number of magical moments with insects, for example:

1. one night judd and i saw a tiny green flashing light, staying in the same spot, as we were walking to our car. it was a firefly caught in a spider's web, consistently flashing it's distress signal. it was, to me, very sad. by the time we came back from the video store, there was no more flashing, and we shone our cellphone lights to the web--a giant clear-yellow spider was meticulously wrapping it into a tiny sarcophagus. i could have stayed and watched it all night, but, you know, there are bugs out there.

2. on our way to a garage sale i noticed a bright green grasshopper on my side of the windshield. judd was driving, so i got to spend the whole ride watching the grasshopper clean its mismatched antennae, and its little feet, and watch its bizarre little mouth move. when we stopped it found a new home somewhere. but how often do you get to watch a bug from the other side of glass like that?

3. at another garage sale, when we were about to walk through the gates, i saw two huge bugs fall out of the trees. one had attacked the other, and drug it down to the ground. they were so big i thought they were birds. i stood and watched them wrestle for awhile, but it was in the middle of the street, so i eventually had to move.

4. I actually see insects here as roadkill. i mean, see them, without having to squint. they are not small.

(photo not mine, thank god)

moving on.

bunnies.

this was one of the major selling-points about attending University of Kansas: there are little brown bunnies everywhere. earlier in the year, when it was cooler, i was seeing them everywhere, but now that it's really heated up i only see them in the early morning (7 or so) or late at night (after dark). but man, they are so cute! unfortunately, they are more shy than the insects.

(photo not mine)

life here has, thus far, centered around writing (and school) and food. i hope nothing about that changes. we have attended a few farmer's markets, and at the first one i spent about $8.00 solely on tomatoes. but i bought a lot of cherry tomatoes-- different kinds of yellows and reds-- and some heirloom reds, and then something i'd never heard of: snow whites. we bought 5 or so of these. they aren't very big, but are delicate and sweet. we ate them sliced and plain.

(photo not mine)

so, while my life may be centered around the price of peaches and lillies @ any of the three weekly farmer's markets, or lesson plans, or writing or submitting pieces, believe it or not, that isn't the focus of all of lawrence. the university of kansas has what some people call a sports program, and have enjoyed what some might call "success."

driving in to lawrence, you see signs that say UNIVERSITY OF KANSAS, NATIONAL BASKETBALL CHAMPIONS 2008 or something. the photo above was not taken by me, because i wasn't here in 2008; it is of the celebration on the main street in lawrence after the win in 2008. but if i was there, i would probably be being crushed or elbowed by someone taller, or at home. i'm sure, though, now that i am here, i will be going to some sort of sporting event. it's just what one does when one is in a community, or something.

one of the greatest aspects of our house is that i can walk to school! i walk about 5-10 minutes (faster if you're taller) up a hill (yes, we live at the bottom of the only hill in kansas), and then i am on campus. the first thing i see is this tornado shelter:

no, it's a treehouse. i actually have no idea what it is, but i love it, and judd took this photo in june when we were visiting. when i came in april and did a campus tour i managed to miss it completely.

it sits directly across from what i think is the most beautiful building on campus, the Natural History Museum. this photo doesn't do it justice, but the moon is in it...

here is an inscription on a nearby building: WHOSO FINDETH WISDOM FINDETH LIFE.

and about a 5 minute walk from the tangle of branches/natural history museum is Wescoe, the humanities building, which houses the English Department and my office. yup, i have an office. i share it with 3 other people, but still, that's pretty neat.

this structure is most associated with KU; it's our eiffel tower. i am not sure what it is, but when judd and i came to visit the pond (forthcoming) one night, someone was playing bagpipes in it... or bagpipe music was being played from it... not sure.

and here is one of my favorite places, maybe my favorite place we have found so far. it's a little pond on the KU campus. i love this weeping willow tree.

and look, the tower is all lit up at night! the pond itself is covered in algae and who knows what else, and there are lily pads and bullfrogs in it. it's very creedence clearwater.

as you can tell, i thought it was pretty magical. sitting there it was really really dark, but i kept hearing the bullfrogs jump, and i really wanted to see one.

in the upper right corner of this one is a firefly. no frogs photographed, though.

there's judd, listenin to the creatures.

i think i'll like it here. the birds seem to like it just fine.

stay tuned. someday i'll find that camera chord, and then you'll see new furniture and the thrilling conclusion to how i've decorated my vanity! (and, check back to tomatosugar, because there are peaches @ the farmer's market, and i have plans)....

Amen Najen

in memoriam

August 3, 2004.

Amen Najen; the opening

and the closing of eyes forever

by Iris Moulton

I.

And oh to the hands

reaching in doorways

not allowed to grip.

And oh to the hands

from one other side to

the other other and to

the mourners walking

steadily on.

To the rain and the

water and the rivers

leading home; to the

sun and the mirrors

and all the bleeding roads.

To the song of metal’s last breath

and a silent knowing slicing

chaos into peace.

To the pieces and the

pieces and the pieces and

the whole. To the

void finding slumber

behind screaming walls. To the

void making rain on the

front yards of America. To the

void talking fashion over

the shrieking urgency of

youth. To the void walking in

and out of pink-doored houses.

To the void dancing free

on empty-spotlight ballet

stages. To the void climbing

into empty beds for one

more always rest. To the after

and before speaking with one mouth.

For the ever. Listening.

II.

Birthmark continent and

pairs of feet walking

through summers on shaky

ground. Get-away-cars

charged and good to get

going running and ringing

suburban bells to wake

the sleeping. Half-naked

nights spent exposed and

half-waiting for some happening

to get to it.

And on the wall a clock is

throwing seconds away

while knowing too much. On

the wall a clock is ticking

rationed time away. On the

wall a clock is murdering

moments; color changes

grey and slowly turns to

ash in the corner of a

crowded room.

III.

The sunset is a thousand

colors of gold as her

head touches the

pillow. The sky is singing a thousand

blues when her eyes shut.

Dreams turn the color

of gone as she wakes

for the last time to last

for ever.

IV.

And oh her hands as they

reach through the doorway

greeted by the absence of

others. And oh the hands left

praying in doorways; solemn

pyramids that will not

guide those passing by.

Hands that won’t stop singing.

Fingers that won’t

touch, arms that won’t hold,

minds that will never know

the instant aging of a thousand

years in that second of

ultimate loneliness. A lifetime

lived complete in the time

it takes to mouth

“good-bye.”

V.

Streets are dark and dry now. Eyes

are opening with your closing

and vows are speaking softly to wed

the sky. Join with something.

So desperate to commune we

can be found holding the

ground– belly down– and weeping.

So tongueless and hollow-cheeked

we speak in stunned silences [or]

memories are the only language left.

Mothers are standing in doorways.

Green ribbons are tied

like the holding of hands.

Green ribbons are tied

like the holding of hands through

doorways.

original poem c. Iris Moulton 2004

first appeared in where the echoes go