“If a weed is a plant out of place
What then is an animal out of place?”
Last month we interviewed the inimitable Charles Potts, a writer whose voice echoes across the desert in so many ways. The response to the piece has been so inspiring, we’re lucky to feature him once again, this time with a new poem about chance encounters and the toponymy of found and lost selves.
The photo above was captured by one of ZiN Daily’s editors on a road trip through Death Valley, California a few years back. The coyote was standing in the middle of the highway, unafraid of us. Was this a good sign, that the animal had had limited exposure to motor vehicles, or was it a bad sign… that it had become used to traffic and human contact? Shortly after the photo was taken, the coyote lay down on the roadside, yawned at us, and took a nap. We were stunned.
There’s a debate raging in the California courts at the moment, about whether culling coyotes should be allowed, in terms of residents in desert communities being able to trap and euthanize coyotes they see as threats. At the same time, legislation is being considered in New Mexico and elsewhere to outlaw coyote-hunting competitions. As it stands, 400,000 coyotes are killed in the US every year, including 80,000 of them by the US Department of Agriculture.
A coyote on a highway brings many poetic images into consciousness: encounter, survival, crossing, migration.
Who and what do we identify as threats? Where will we meet and how will we interact?
"Ako je korov biljka na pogrešnom mjestu Što je onda životinja na pogrešnom mjestu?"
U veljači smo razgovarali s jedinstvenim Charlesom Pottsom, američkim pjesnikom čiji glas odjekuje široko preko pustinja svih vrsta i oblika. Reakcije na taj razgovor nagnale su nas da ga ponovno predstavimo, ovoga puta i u sjajnom prijevodu Sare Kopeczky (čije pjesme također požurite potražiti na našim stranicama).
Slučajno ili ne, Pottsova poema Autoput kojota stvorila je nekoliko poveznica koje samo potvrđuju relevantnost (sve) poezije na osobnoj, ali i najširoj društvenoj razini. Prije nekoliko godina jedan od urednika ZiN Dailyja putujući kroz kalifornijsku Dolinu smrti snimo je fotografiju koju vidite gore. Kojot na slici stajao je nasred autoputa ne pokazujući ni trunku straha. Je li to bio dobar znak, da je životinja imala malo iskustva s vozilima, ili loš znak... da se potpuno priviknula na promet i ljude. Odmah nakon što je "pozirao" za ovu fotografiju, kojot je, na iznenađenje promatrača, zijevnuo, legao upravo na mjestu na kojem je i snimljen i... zaspao!
Sudovi u Kaliforniji upravo raspravljaju treba li dozvoljavati odstrel kojota, treba li stanovnicima pustinjskih krajeva dopuštati da kojote love zamkama i ubijaju, ako ih smatraju za prijetnju. Istovremeno, u Novom Meksiku razmatraju se zakoni koji bi zabranili natjecanja u lovu na kojote. Naime, samo u SAD-u godišnje se ubije 400.000 kojota (što uključuje i 80.000 jedinki koje se odstrijele po naputku američke Uprave za poljoprivredu).
Slika kojota na autoputu priziva u svijest mnoštvo konotacija i ideja. Ona govori o susretu, opstanku, križanju puteva, migraciji, ali nas ponajprije tjera da razmislimo koga ili što doživljavamo kao prijetnju, gdje ćemo se sresti i na koji način se odnositi prema onome drugom, nepoznatom ili prepoznatom.
Autoput kojota
Za Amalia Maduenu
Štene kojota pretrči cestu
Ravno predamnom pa u polja žita
Vječni kojotski cerek s visećim jezikom
Zamišljam na njegovom licu
Na njenom licu
Kojot ima dva lica
(Kao cesta koja ide u oba smjera
I nigdje u isto vrijeme)
Lice Janusa i drame
Veselja i tuge
Biseksualno i dvospolno
Izbjegavanje embarga na grijeh
Ipak, oduvijek nam je trebala
Takva zabrana
Možemo zahvaliti kojotima
Što se održala.
Unatoč svemu vrijeme je pronašlo moj jezik
Još uvijek u istom tonalitetu
Zalijepljen na smrznutom čeliku.
Nekoliko dana prije požara u Blue Creeku
Štene kojota završilo je pod kotačima
Gotovo na istom mjestu gdje je prelazilo cestu
Nekoliko dana ranije
Janus i srpanj sudarili su se označavajući istovremeno
Početak i kraj.
Ostatak ljeta gledao sam
Kako se kojotovo sićušno krznato tijelo
Sve više utiskuje
U kolnik
Lijepeći ga
Plosnatijeg od tvog oca i mog
Njih dvojica i svi ostali
Pretvorili su se u masnu mrlju kojota i dlake
Nakon predugog podnošenja težine kotača
Stotine vatrogasnih kamiona
Koji dolaze i odlaze prema
Požaru u Blue Creeku
Voze ih pretjerano odjeveni i vatrootporni
Ljudi iz Odjela za prirodne resurse koji se većinom
Pretvaraju da se bore protiv vatre zarobljeni
Snažnijom silom po redu veličine:
Zapravo su se borili protiv (i gubili od) inercije.
2
Požar je podijelio moj život na
Prije i poslije.
Prije požara kojotovo tijelo
Pjevalo je u snu
Zavijajuće glasnice moje vlastite
Čežnje za stapanjem s veličanstvenim
Tempom geološkog vremena.
Nakon požara
Koji je bio prije mjesec dana
A čini se kao da su prošle mnoge godine
Kojot je potrošio
Svoju dobrodošlicu kolniku
Dulje od zdrobljene šape Lorcinog
Mačeta u New Yorku.
Nepravilna masna mrlja
Kojota koji se predaje i prepušta svoj loj
Umjetnoj gumi pri svom susretu sa cestom.
I ja nestajem u mrljama
Jedna revolucija za drugom
Obrtaj za obrtajem
Utisnuti u cestu
Svaka guma prenosi
Moj lik oko
Mill Creek ceste do Walla Walle
Blue Creek je izgorjela uspomena
Posvećena čemu?
Kuće, stabla, zgrade, trava, nekoliko tisuća jutara,
To je nekoć pripadalo meni, mojim prijateljima i životinjama
Tisuću jutara mojih vlastitih borova i jela
Uništio je nemarni farmer dajući
s pšenicom i našu zemlju u izvoz.
Ovaj kojot ne umire od gladi
Nema Nezahualcoyotla na jeziku Nahuatl
Ovaj je kojot izumro
Privremeno ugašen
Vozilom industrijske jačine.
Usprkos embargu na grijeh
Kojot je jači od smrti
I unatoč nestajanju
Nadživjet će cestu.
3
Nisam očekivao da će me ovako utisnuti
Česticu po česticu u asfalt
Raširiti na ljetnoj vrućini.
Nemam pojma što se dogodilo.
Ne znam što me je snašlo.
Odjednom sve je bilo u izmaglici krvi i boli.
Sada sam čuvar ove ceste.
Ne bih mogao ustati čak i kada bih htio.
Nemam noge na kojima bih mogao stajati.
Ne mogu vam reći koliko mi to znači.
Više ne vjerujem ni u što.
S ustima zgnječenim na asfaltu
Dovoljno je teško postrance pljuckati klišeje
I vama bi to bilo teško
Da više nemate zuba.
Ali razmišljao sam o tome.
Mrtav kao pregaženi kojot
Moram vam reći nešto
Što je čekalo sedamdeset ljeta.
Ne možete sići s ove ceste
S polu-kraljevskog puta u propast
Neusporedivog s Via regiom
Cesta do Cibole
El Camino neRealni
Autocesta Kojota.
4
Ako pratite Blue Creek cestu
Dovoljno daleko
Doći ćete do crne šume koja podsjeća na
Stranice istrgnute iz Cormac McCarthyjeve
Ceste.
Svaki spremnik goriva
Svaka vrećica namirnica
Svaki je tekst započet
Uzaludno.
Sve će izgorjeti.
Ja sam barem postao trajni stanovnik.
Ne baš građanin.
Nikada nisam osjećao kao da pripadam ovdje
Tako da sam se nastanio
Iznad i ispod zakona.
Stranac po rođenju u vlastitom vremenu i zemlji.
Dok me nije bilo, došle su kiše
I na kratko se činilo da su otpustile
Moj loj u čestice zemlje
Hraneći obližnji korov.
S obzirom da ne mogu prijeći preko toga
Moram se izdignuti iznad toga
Ponovno položiti svoje pravo na filozofsko prijestolje
Moj praujak Neza postavio je standard.
Potraga za poveznicama
Objektivnim i onim drugima
Ako je korov biljka na pogrešnom mjestu
Što je onda životinja na pogrešnom mjestu?
Tek siroče filozofije
U koju prenizak ne mogu ni zalutati
Moj corpus delicti
Potpuno predan tijelu
Koje još nedostaje, ali još zbraja zločine
Korov koji je nekada nosio krzno
Govori izravno u mikrofon
Ne možeš me dublje razočarati.
Prevela: Sara Kopeczky.
Coyote Highway
For Amalio Madueno
The baby coyote scampering across the road
In front of me and into the wheat fields
Eternal coyote grin of the hanging tongue
I imagined on his face
On her face
A coyote has two faces
(So too the road going both directions
And nowhere simultaneously)
Janus and dramatic
The happy and the sad
Bisexual and two sexual
Scampering sin embargo
Nevertheless there should have always been
An embargo on sin
We have coyotes to thank
For making it stick.
Nevertheless time has found my tongue
Hanging on a key signature
Making it stick on frozen steel.
A few days before the Blue Creek Fire
The coyote pup got ran over
Almost exactly where I’d seen it cross
A few days earlier
In the Janus-in-July crunch signifying both
The beginning and the end.
For the rest of the summer I’ve watched
The coyote’s tiny fur bearing body
Get impressed flatter and flattest
Into the pavement
Making it stick
Flatter than your father and mine
Both of them and all others
Becoming a coyote grease spot with hair
Over time by the over bearing weight of the wheels
Of a hundred fire trucks
Coming and going after
The Blue Creek fire
Driven relentlessly by over-dressed fire-proof
Department of Natural Resource men mostly
Pretending to be fighting fire snared
In a stronger force by orders of magnitude:
They were really fighting (and losing to) inertia.
2
The fire bifurcated my life into
Before and after the fire.
Before the fire the coyote’s body
Sang in its sleep
The howling vocal chords of my signature
Yearning to merge with the magnificent
Tempo of geologic time.
After the fire
Which was a month ago
And feels like many years
The coyote is wearing out
His welcome to the pavement
Beyond the crushed paw of Lorca’s
Kitten in New York.
The intermittent grease stain
Of the coyote surrendering and rendering its fat
To the artificial rubber of its meeting with the road.
I too disappear in stains
One revolution after another
Imprinted on the road
Every tire takes
An image of me around and around
The Mill Creek Road to Walla Walla
Blue Creek a burned out memory
Tributary to what now?
Houses, trees, buildings, grass, several thousand acres,
That used to belong to me, my friends and the animals
A thousand acres of my own pine and fir
Destroyed by a careless wheat farmer
Exporting topsoil.
This coyote is not starving
No Nezahualcoyotl in Nahuatl
This coyote is extinct
Extinguished temporarily by
Industrial strength transportation.
Nevertheless sin embargo
The coyote is stronger than death
And despite its disappearing act
Will outlive the road.
3
I did not expect to be impressed this way
Molecule by molecule into the asphalt
Spread out in the summer heat.
I have no idea what happened.
I don’t know what hit me.
Suddenly everything was a blur of blood and pain.
I am now the watchman of this road.
I couldn’t get up if I wanted to.
I don’t have a leg to stand on.
I can’t tell you how much this means to me.
I don’t believe anything anymore.
With my mouth mashed down into the asphalt
It’s hard enough to spit clichés out sideways
You would find it difficult too
If you no longer had any teeth.
But I’ve been thinking about it.
Dead as a coyote nailed
I have something to tell you
That has waited seventy years of summers.
You can’t get off this road
The semi royal road to ruin
Non-parallel to the King’s Highway
The Road to Cibola
El Camino unReal
Coyote Highway.
4
If you follow the Blue Creek Road
Far enough
You come to a black forest resembling
Pages ripped off Cormac McCarthy’s
The Road.
Every tank of gas
Every bag of groceries
Every text is taken
Up with futility.
It’s all going to burn.
I at least have become a permanent resident.
Not a citizen exactly.
I never felt like I belonged here
So I took up residence both
Above and below the law.
Alien by birth in my own time and country.
While I was gone the rains came
And for a while seemed to loosen
My grease into the aggregate
Nourishing the nearby weeds.
Since I can’t get over it
I have to rise above it
To reassert my claim on the philosophic kingdom
My great uncle Neza set the standard.
A search for correlatives
Objective and otherwise
If a weed is a plant out of place
What then is an animal out of place?
But an orphan of philosophy
I am too short to trespass
My corpus delicti
Completely committed to a body
Still missing but still counting up the crimes
A formerly fur bearing weed
Speaks right into the mike
You can’t let me any farther down.
Originally published in Coyote Highway, Charles Potts, Pleasureville, KY, USA: Least Bittern Books, 2016.
