Sneezing in Patagonia

'new title, final revisions for one of the cornerstones of the upcoming collection. A sneak peak as it where.'

It was never a question of availability, 

scarcity of options, or --

my being too much of a misanthrope, some mad monk 

too lost in the minutiae to countenance 

being hitched to a wagon. 

  

I lived in a city of appetites, a smorgasbord 

of whatever you want just ask for. 

There was no shortage of grocery stores, 

late night conveniences, crematory plots 

to dip a toe into. So why … 

if a hummingbird fluttered her wings in Patagonia 

should I imagine a buzzard circling 

a zebra in Nairobi? 

Having discovered the first law of thermodynamics 

was when energy passed in or out of a system 

the system’s internal mechanics were required to realign 

in sympathy to the new arrangement, that any prolonged 

estuation of the sensory glands necessitated a reconfiguration 

of the sentient function -- the second law of thermodynamics --

I’d opt to switch majors before the third law came up for discussion.

Any notion of a romantic interlude having a long range forecast 

struck me as being a little too contingent on faith, 

a pig in the poke for folks too timid to risk a margin call, 

their own self-reliance. I was fine with being a general anesthetist, 

making the rounds of the local head shops, dumpster diving 

bargain bins for the brilliant bits of metaphorical mumblers, 

the odd pork pie, gin rummy, or on that rare occasion -- a welsh rabbit. 

I simply subscribed to the ancient ways: pick up a book, shout fire 

on your way through the produce section 

of your favorite popsicle parlor -- somebody was bound to hear 

the SOS call -- especially if you included dinner in the announcement. 

A decent bottle of red loosens lips -- or so the bible says. 

And I was content to follow in Marlow’s wake. 

I’d managed  to cordon off the world. My self-contained spaces 

had no place for luggage. I ate standing up. All those crumbs 

Marquez had left behind, Malcolm’s sloe Quauhnahuac 

eruptions, more than satisfied my dietary needs. 

After forty -- absolved of the masturbatory condition -- 

the myocardial infarction of feeling anything for anyone 

was an ache I hardly bothered to register. Any thought 

that my thoughts could twine with someone other 

than my own never crossed my mind. 

How the black bileful streets emptied out 

into the dark harbor waters, the indeterminate design 

of the bilabial fricatives, akin to a congenital defect, 

were too much to twist my tongue around --

a bristling burr my poor indigent’s palate refused to swallow. 

While I could conjugate the verbs of three languages --

passé present futurae -- sight poets no one would ever read --  

lay down a bunt while fiddling through Rome -- 

the inner workings of the combustible engine remained a mystery. 

And how I might internalize a V8 seemed too great an inquiry, 

a nuisance I never had time to initiate. 

Until, one spring 

morning, this little hummingbird alighted on my windowsill. 

Seemingly unperturbed by all the stems I’d left to wither there, 

she set about tidying a nest from all my moody contentions.

For months on end, her persistent melody 

fluttered about my pigeoned panes, insistent I take notice 

of her peculiar obsession -- how heavenly a dawn might break 

against the eyelids, if one would only draw back the shades … 

and I began to sense something stirring. Time, 

suddenly unsuspended, became my peculiar obsession … 

waiting to hear her tap, tap tap, tapping -- 

the new imperative of a watch being set to a whole other way 

of keeping track of where I was, like a lock being picked, 

some slow circling groove, cylinders tumbling into place, 

as the unheard before beat of the Charlies improvisation …

And I was hip at last, to Nernst’s last great postulate, the third law. 

When desire beats a hart’s crucible, want makes 

for a perpetual motion -- emotion … 

and the inertia of a book the kindling of a solitary man. 

Impossible now, not to think -- it was ever a question 

or option … when Patagonia sneezes 

Nairobi feels the breeze. 

Ken e Bujold

Author's Note

nothing much to say, other than this baby has been wrestled to the ground finally. It is one of the foundation stones to the upcoming release, and so i thought i would trot it out for as a sneak preview, hopefully to whet the appetites

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

Such an interesting and varied journey of flight you had Ken, until that day you found a little hummingbird with a nest with a difference. She lifted your shades and now you have emotional ties. Just goes to prove there is someone out there for everyone.

When Patagonia sneezes
Nairobi feels the breeze

Full of metaphor and so upbeat. Well done you on getting this one to where you want it to be. Good luck with your forthcoming book. A most enjoyable read. Read it twice by the way. So much to take in.

[Lorry]

I think my previous years of office speak has ruined this review as my first thought was "Don't think outside the box, think like there is no box." I swear if I mention blue sky thinking or putting a pin in that for now, I'll buy a one way ticket to Switzerland and be done with it.
I did like the "sight poets no one would ever read" as anywhere I visit I trawl through the local authors of second hand bookshops and find out first hand why they didn't make it past local. 😊
They do say travel broadens the mind and it does, right up until that lost in translation moment where you need someone who speaks your language or is at the very least good at charades to help you from your predicament.
Now my travel narrows the mind as I only visit predominantly English speaking countries, as my ability at charades falls short of explaining I haven't slept in three days and won't sleep until I've tracked down a roll and square sausage and a can of irn bru. 😊
As a child I always wanted to tie a napkin with all my possessions to a stick and wander the earth, but these days room service and a spa is pretty high up on the list.
I envy your travels 😊

[W. Barrett Munn]

Well worth the wrestle and the wait. I find no word or hyphen out of place.

Winston

[W. Barrett Munn]

Well worth the wrestle and the wait. I find no word or hyphen out of place.

Winston

[S.zaynab.kamoonpury]

I don't think buzzards could catch a big healthy zebra , didn't know buzards exist in Kenya, but your poem is very interesting, with fab intriguing turn of phrases and enjoyable musings creatively inked in imaginative style wow!! Kudos i must say.

Plz also read and comment my newest poem too.

[Lisasview]

Good morning dear Ken,
I do love that you think out of the box. There is so much to understand in your words... but I feel I get it...
Must have taken you quite sometime to write all this and of course I wonder what you mean when you say "sneak preview" are you thinking of writing a book? Perhaps a short story?
Just went back to read your words again.
I do love the bit about the hummingbird... Until, one spring
morning, this little hummingbird alighted on my windowsill.
Seemingly unperturbed by all the stems I’d left to wither there,
she set about tidying a nest from all my moody contentions.
For months on end, her persistent melody
fluttered about my pigeoned panes, insistent I take notice
of her peculiar obsession -- how heavenly a dawn might break
against the eyelids, if one would only draw back the shades …
and I began to sense something stirring. Time,
suddenly unsuspended, became my peculiar obsession …
waiting to hear her tap, tap tap, tapping --
the new imperative of a watch being set to a whole other way
of keeping track of where I was, like a lock being picked,
some slow circling groove, cylinders tumbling into place,
as the unheard before beat of the Charlies improvisation …
I believe that most of us do not take the time to ponder...to look at what is happening right before our eyes. Perhaps because I am an artist I am more aware of such thing.. I find myself gazing at a sunset long after my friends have stopped looking. As a child I remember thinking that somewhere in the world there was another child thinking the same thing... Weird thoughts for a child but that was me....
Living now in Spain for two years and meeting people from pretty much everywhere I am more aware of the differences in thinking...Not just the language. I find this so very interesting....
All my best to you,
Lisa

[Ken e Bujold]

thanks for the lovely review lisa. As to sneak preview, yes I have a collection of work coming out soon. tentatively scheduled for end of April

[Lisasview]

You are most welcome... I know my review was rather long...
Lisa