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Five poems by Scott T. Starbuck
On Earth with Big Oil, Coyote’s Prediction, Ancient Forest, Laugh Out Loud Café, When I Lived Upriver
On Earth with Big Oil
is like being in a car
with crazy uncle Ned,
running red lights,
ignoring stop signs,
singing church hymns
while splattering raccoons,
ducklings, dogs, deer,
cats, possums,
plowing through old ladies,
folks in wheelchairs
and on scooters,
crowds of schoolchildren,
then whistling like they
never existed.
Your parent (government)
warns, “Don’t say anything
“about your mad uncle’s
driving habits
“as we need him
to butcher our cows.”
Coyote’s Prediction
There is a ghost
like water healing
river’s paddle wounds,
old logging mill
lanced by seeds
of forgotten giants,
salmon cannery
weathered like ribs
of a fish skeleton.
Only things
that belong here
will last.
Ancient Forest
People stare at iPhones
but what about listening
to voice of sea,
geese migrations,
salmon splashes,
cedar arms in wind,
like ages before
when men and women knew
quench soul hunger
first thing in morning
before saying anything
to anyone.
Laugh Out Loud Café
is so quiet it makes history museum
seem like a carnival ride.
“What’s up with the name?” I ask.
“Previous owner,” I’m told,
and think of bad storms
that change coastlines,
Titanic lifeboats
leaving half full.
When I Lived Upriver
I had a neighbor who spoke only in haiku,
and another of only Vietnam War.
Community dinners were mostly silent
except for songbirds, geese,
unheard pawprints of salamanders,
fins and tails of spawning salmon,
wary eyes of deer or elk,
or expanding roots of ferns,
wildflowers, mushroom mycelium,
bigleaf maple, and giant
Western redcedar, Doug-fir.
River people, like trees, preferred
specific habitats, elevations,
right amounts of sun and rain.
When they shared, it was lived experience,
vivid dreams, hopes and fears
– such a break from network TV
like surfacing from a small pond
Scott Starbuck
Scott T. Starbuck is an American poet and artist. He writes a blog, Trees, Fish, and Dreams Climateblog, at riverseek.blogspot.com, which has readers in 110 countries. He recently donated his Clay Salmon Poem artwork to the art collection at Lower Columbia College, and his other clay pieces to Battle Ground Public Library, Washington State University Vancouver Library, and Columbia Basin Fish & Wildlife Library, a program of the Columbia River Inter-Tribal Fish Commission. The rest of it he buried in the Cascade Mountains. Starbuck retired in June 2022 as co-coordinator of the creative writing program at Mesa College in San Diego and is currently traveling with his wife.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Five poems by Scott T. Starbuck
On Earth with Big Oil, Coyote’s Prediction, Ancient Forest, Laugh Out Loud Café, When I Lived Upriver
Five poems by Scott T. Starbuck
On Earth with Big Oil, Coyote’s Prediction, Ancient Forest, Laugh Out Loud Café, When I Lived Upriver
On Earth with Big Oil
is like being in a car
with crazy uncle Ned,
running red lights,
ignoring stop signs,
singing church hymns
while splattering raccoons,
ducklings, dogs, deer,
cats, possums,
plowing through old ladies,
folks in wheelchairs
and on scooters,
crowds of schoolchildren,
then whistling like they
never existed.
Your parent (government)
warns, “Don’t say anything
“about your mad uncle’s
driving habits
“as we need him
to butcher our cows.”
Coyote’s Prediction
There is a ghost
like water healing
river’s paddle wounds,
old logging mill
lanced by seeds
of forgotten giants,
salmon cannery
weathered like ribs
of a fish skeleton.
Only things
that belong here
will last.
Ancient Forest
People stare at iPhones
but what about listening
to voice of sea,
geese migrations,
salmon splashes,
cedar arms in wind,
like ages before
when men and women knew
quench soul hunger
first thing in morning
before saying anything
to anyone.
Laugh Out Loud Café
is so quiet it makes history museum
seem like a carnival ride.
“What’s up with the name?” I ask.
“Previous owner,” I’m told,
and think of bad storms
that change coastlines,
Titanic lifeboats
leaving half full.
When I Lived Upriver
I had a neighbor who spoke only in haiku,
and another of only Vietnam War.
Community dinners were mostly silent
except for songbirds, geese,
unheard pawprints of salamanders,
fins and tails of spawning salmon,
wary eyes of deer or elk,
or expanding roots of ferns,
wildflowers, mushroom mycelium,
bigleaf maple, and giant
Western redcedar, Doug-fir.
River people, like trees, preferred
specific habitats, elevations,
right amounts of sun and rain.
When they shared, it was lived experience,
vivid dreams, hopes and fears
– such a break from network TV
like surfacing from a small pond
Scott Starbuck
Scott T. Starbuck is an American poet and artist. He writes a blog, Trees, Fish, and Dreams Climateblog, at riverseek.blogspot.com, which has readers in 110 countries. He recently donated his Clay Salmon Poem artwork to the art collection at Lower Columbia College, and his other clay pieces to Battle Ground Public Library, Washington State University Vancouver Library, and Columbia Basin Fish & Wildlife Library, a program of the Columbia River Inter-Tribal Fish Commission. The rest of it he buried in the Cascade Mountains. Starbuck retired in June 2022 as co-coordinator of the creative writing program at Mesa College in San Diego and is currently traveling with his wife.
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