Beyond Place
Immortal Snohomish creates and consumes of a place beyond place. Existence is life and death and we are one with the river who gives and takes. She licks at newborn calves, their mothers soon for slaughter. She teases along her path of life, hording glacial secrets in seasons. She breathes passion through dens of play and slows her gait in wonder at the mill, where blood and sap converge our living death. Mourning whistles from mill and rail cannot be silenced.
In this valley, moon and sun hold morning court over swans unsheltered in fields of decay. Along the river, we know that to live, there must be death. We live among the dead and celebrate together. The spirits are many and we offer respect for lives known only through wisps of fading grays, snapshots in clinking glass and tarnished silver noise.
Neither haunted, nor possessed, but endowed with intelligences of ages, our buildings sweat soul and invite creation from untethered minds. To be here, you simply have to be. Once you are, you will find meaning.
Jeffrey’s Story
January 15th, 2010 at 10:23 am
Nice story – I think I have been there in my travels. The notion of the blur between life and death is fascinating! Your video is a nice supplement – and by the way you have a *very* pleasant voice. Thank you for sharing….
January 15th, 2010 at 10:34 am
I was hoping for something more along the lines of, “In Snohomish – Pyrotechnicians Rule.”
January 15th, 2010 at 10:35 am
Next, episode, my friend.
January 15th, 2010 at 10:35 am
Thank you. Snohomish is a blurry, foggy place, for sure. I still haven’t figured it all out, but I do love it.
January 15th, 2010 at 11:14 am
The narrative language in the opening paragraph reminds me of Cormac McCarthy, particularly anything from the trilogy. Then it changes into something else more, something else.
January 15th, 2010 at 11:52 am
I’ve not read Cormac McCarthy and will have to add it to my list. I made some strange changes to this as I worked. I’ve not done creative writing in a while, so it was a bit of an exercise.
January 15th, 2010 at 2:27 pm
Like the poetic flow of the first paragraph. Did you try writing it out in stanzas? Can hear the dull clunk of the rails, chains and gentle clink of the glasses. Sound poem would be interesting: hearing the sounds from Snohomish with images of the places where sap and blood mix.