Getting Hotter

GETTING HOTTER or not? Why warn of Climate Change?

even the shades,

to capture the sunbaked thirsty herds,

and to tempt the warm flesh of the shepherds,

put on your sunscreen now

boys, o gather the herds, the misers

will count them, now the light is

dimming (mellowing in a bloody cast)

the shadows are lengthening

as is the dreamscape.

These being the Dog Days of Summer

seek shelter, children, nearby

the cooling springs and cozy grottoes

for ice as precious as diamonds—

how harsh and sudden my Winters.

GETTING COLDER

Pan cares for the sheep

and for the masters of the sheep.

Same is his love for the flocks,

as for the leaders of the flocks.

But who cares for Pan?

Fertilizing the fruit-trees with blood and bones. They scare me. I see the larval grains, the maggots in the bowl. Of course these sylvan sylphs are flesh and blood, sometimes sunbathing like lizards on the warm rocks, sometimes hunting down their shadowy spaces for a cool bath of fresh air.

[Her name was Sylvia]

My Bucolica is a modern reboot of the "eclogue" form originating in Classical Greece and Rome and much rehashed throughout all European literature. It usually comes in the form of a collection of shepherd's songs, dialogues, and stories featuring themes of love/desire, nature/the seasons, death/mortality, and the passing of time. It is often a playground to poeticize the animal world and humankind's relation to it, as well as particulars of the seemingly idyllic life led by simple shepherds and farmers in Arcadia. It is also referred to as bucolic literature. I wrote my Bucolica 2017-2018 in a mix of poetry and prose.