Since Thomas Robert Higginson is by far the best thing in my life, and I hp[e he will always be that! (and this permanent desire on my part) I want to be sure he has my transcriptions of his podcasts, so I thought I would place them here, so at least access is possible.
Given that these transcription are of time spent in Alaska, I thought that my picture should be a bit more wintry, although it is well into June 2017, I’ve known him so very long. Well, these transcriptions were a gift and I give them again.
It was a pleasure to transcribe them, and here is one offering of a transcription of Episode one.
Well, it’s my last night in New York
I had a poem I wrote a while ago, “Last Nights”
–last nights are very important to me, because I’ve had a lot of them.
I love last nights because you always have, “well, that happened last night” but when it happens on your last night, then you know that you’re ready
for whatever comes next, the molecules lining up
in preparation for departure.
I can’t believe all of this is not even off the beaten path; it’s
off the highway here in Juneau.
That’s the sound of the waterfall coming down
–just one hole through the ice sheet
through the glacier; glaciers move back
and it turns into a waterfall
The green is the definition of green
which of course is a multihued “green”,
the “moss” popping, the leaves looking primordial
and the fir trees getting dark, dark, dark
and the sun filtering through with gold.
Everybody’s a bear.
Counting eagles from the front porch:
1. one just flew over, and then slowly
straight into the clouds
across the bay
2. two surprised me: At a diagonal so close
I could hear the wind in the wings
3. three sailed so high up in a spiral,
I didn’t know it disappeared…
___________
It was a pleasure to try to transcribe them as they are all poetry, at least to me. I did not transcribe all of them, but I did my best from close listening at the time, so these are for you Thomas Robert, the best I could do at the time that I transcribed them.
I had more difficulty with episode two and there are two versions; here is one of them:
I saw the bear a half hour after I landed in Juneau.
The crow has welcomed me, and three eagles;
pretty much the clans have given me the omen of omens.:
You really feel who owns the place
–and it sure ain’t me.
Gray.
Pick a gray that pours into Auke Bay
like a glacier, and what is true
for a cloud in Juneau is to be born rain
in a gray garment handed down from seals,
that gray, that other gray, that gray over there.
Mountain continues ocean
Language continues continues
Story continues language
Mother continues child
Child continues memory
Memory continues whale
Whale continues sea
Boat continues life
Twitter continues Twitter
Waves continue ice
Milk continues poem
Laughter continues dance
Mountain continues ocean
continues contains continues
rain continues continues continues
continues language
__________
(I believe this to be the other version, sorry if they’re identical; every time, I tried to open Microsoft Word, I couldn’t, and these are transcriptions I found in other places and copied them into Apple’s Pages word processor which has never given me a problem):
I saw the bear a half hour after I landed in Juneau.
The crow has welcomed me, and three eagles;
pretty much the clans have given me the omen of omens.
You really feel who owns the place
–and it sure ain’t me.
Gray.
Pick a gray that pours into Auke Bay
like a glacier, and what is true
for a cloud in Juneau is to be born rain
in a gray garment handed down from seals,
that gray, that other gray, that gray over there.
[some of the prose interlude]:
I’m looking out over Auke Bay in juneau; it’s not “awe”, but “auke” the “ka”
is a diminutive, so it’s little “ah” –just a little “awe” [ah] in the air
along with all the grays that are there.
–a lot of these clouds aren’t clouds;
they’re the moisture
off the mountains;
I know they’re there; I’ve seen them when the sun decides
to set fire to the sky.
A sea lion crossing:
In Kotzebue, you’re never too far from the tundra
In Kotzebue, you’re never too far from the sea.
The sun and moon dancing with the Northern Lights
–that’s about it here in Kotzebue.
Over the Arctic Circle, 60 miles from Russia
–unbelievable!– what they call the “Beringia Region”
–where the continents of Asia and North America
connected, where the Wooly Mammoth crossed,
and it still fels like wooly mammoth territory…
I read about how today was the last day of summer
in New York; it’s 70 degrees, but here,
it’s right at freezing, and you gotta bundle up!
Mountain continues ocean
Language continues continues continues
Story continues language
Mother continues child
Child continues memory
Memory continues whale
Whale continues sea
Boat continues life
Twitter continues Twitter
Waves continue ice
Milk continues poem
Laughter continues dance
Mountain continues ocean
continues contains continues
rain continues continues continues
continues language
_________
-“and it sure ain’t me” anymore, but it used to be me, Thomas Robert; it used to be me.
A few more images of winter, not in Alaska, but right in Michigan:
This used to be my own back yard; I like to think of the world as my own back yard. I am connected to so much, and all of it moves through me, all of it “continues” to use Thomas Robert’s language.
Who can say what will be the lucky entity to continue something? I will continue being myself; I have little choice in that anyway.
I am not a bear per se, but I did write something about a bear that I will transcribe as soon as I can. You see, Thomas Robert said, at least that’s the way that I transcribed it. As Thomas Robert said in episode one, “Everybody’s a bear”…
Indeed, long before I knew Thomas Robert at all, I knew that everyone is a bear, and called my father “Teddy” out of that knowledge,
and not that you need confirmtion of your statement from me, Thomas Robert, but you have it anyway.
Let there be peace for the universe, for the world, and also between us, that “US”-ness you named and used to speak about, that very “US”-ness I will always love,
Even that “US”-ness of humanity; I give that back to you, my friend. Always.