Red

Roderick uses nature to trace the history of himself and of America. He also emphasizes the contrast between nature vs. man and condemns civilization for being less in touch with nature and spirit. I use my experiences growing up in a woody area to illustrate a time and place that now seems very distant and magical especially now that I live in NYC. I describe the beauties and dangers of nature as well as the unnatural clash when nature meets the artificial.

I leave my suburban cave, withdraw from the security

of the red-coated wood panels, vulnerable to natural perils,

and become a young pioneer, discoverer of the woods.

Cardinals paint red ribbons in my vision that criss-cross

through olive pines. Deer eat the grapes, pee wine.

Umbrellas of fungus shoot from the dewy lawn.

I put on my rainboots and climb over

the metal fence that protects the stream so I can stand

knee-deep and watch daddy long legs tiptoe.

I gather stones and use a stronger stone to pulverize

and create multicolored earthy powders. I learn

the textures and densities just like a young primitive.

Red is softest, oily, like terra-cotta.

Sometimes the outside meets the cave to get a taste of red heat.

So the beehive naps atop the basketball hoop,

but the bees get angry whenever we make a shot.

Relentless lady mosquito bounces against the window

Shriveled scorpions in the dank basement

Ants rolled up, scattered across the piano room

Squirrels live in the roof. One smells chestnuts and scratches

its way through the ceiling and falls out and hits the floor

Woodpeckers make nests in the red walls, threatening to expose the cave’s guts.

Blue January morning, whimpers from outside.

I open the red door and the white dog is covered in red

Raccoon wanted a taste of high-class animal.

Red splattered grass, red tipped teeth, red-dyed shampooed fur.

Bloody war between the wild and the tamed.

Red is softest and warmest.