An Obfuscated Month

Maudslay Park always provides a remarkable walk and this morning was no different. But first, do you think Bernadette Mayer was pulling our collective leg. "The poem may have to mean nothing for a while or reflect in its meaning just the image of meaning. / The best obfuscation bewilders old meanings while reflecting or imitating or creating a structure of a beauty that we know." Anyways back to Maudslay. First there was the meadow. Queen Anne’s Lace all over. An invasive plant by the way. Like purple loosestrife. The concern of which really makes one wonder. Invasive? I wonder what was the most invasive species in North America ever? Or maybe who is more correct. Anyways, back to Maudslay. And into the forest.

Sonnet August Four

I could talk to you about the early morning
darkness in the forest and the almost
hallucinogenic mist that permeates
the mind with obfuscation and unfinished
reflection. But it was the meadow flush
with original sun and lushly spun with wildflowers
that I’d rather relate to you—despite the risk
of being quaint, conventional or dull.
Especially the drifts of Queen Anne’s Lace
—they filled the field like so much August snow—
with moon pie umbrels of compound inflorescence,
starred with countless (well I didn’t stop to count them)
white gems with a purple glint somewhere in the heart.
But let’s just say a glazed window opened on…

~Son Rivers 2005