What Sparks Poetry is a series of original essays that explores experiences and ideas that spark the writing of new poems. In Ecopoetry Now, invited poets highlight poetry’s integral role in sustaining our ecological imagination. Each Monday's delivery brings you a poem and an excerpt from the essay
Juliana Spahr
one

We come into the world.
We come into the world and there it is.
The sun is there.
The brown of the river leading to the blue and the brown of the
ocean is there.
Salmon and eels are there moving between the brown and the
brown and the blue.
The green of the land is there.
Elders and youngers are there.
We come into the world and we are there.
Fighting and possibility and love are there.
And we begin to breathe.
We come into the world and there it is.
We come into the world without and we breathe it in.
We come into the world and begin to move between the brown and
the blue and the green of it.
 

two

We came into the world at the edge of a stream.
The stream had no name but it began from a spring and flowed
down a hill into the Scioto that then flowed into the Ohio that then
flowed into the Mississippi that then flowed into the Gulf of Mexico.
The stream was a part of us and we were a part of the stream and we
were thus part of the rivers and thus part of the gulfs and the oceans.
And we began to learn the stream.
We looked under stones for the caddisfly larvae and its adhesive.
We counted the creek chub and we counted the slenderhead darter.
We learned to recognize the large, upright, dense, candle-like
clusters of yellowish flowers at the branch ends of the horsechestnut
and we appreciated the feathery gracefulness of the drooping, but
upturning, branchlets of the larch.
We mimicked the catlike meow, the soft quirrt or kwut, and the
louder, grating ratchet calls of the gray catbird.
We put our heads together.
We put our heads together with all these things, with the caddisfly
larva, with the creek chub and the slenderhead darter, with the
horsechestnut and the larch, with the gray catbird.
We put our heads together on a narrow pillow, on a stone, on a
narrow stone pillow, and we talked to each other all day long
because we loved.
We loved the stream.
And we were of the stream.
And we couldn’t help this love because we arrived at the bank of the
stream and began breathing and the stream was various and full of
information and it changed our bodies with its rotten with its cold
with its clean with its mucky with fallen leaves with its things that
bite the edges of the skin with its leaves with its sand and dirt with
its pungent at moments with its dry and prickly with its warmth with
its mushy and moist with its hard flat stones on the bottom with its
horizon lines of gently rolling hills with its darkness with its dappled
light with its cicadas buzz with its trills of birds.
 

three

This is where we learned love and where we learned depth and
where we learned layers and where we learned connections
between layers.
We learned and we loved the black sandshell, the ash, the american
bittern, the harelip sucker, the yellow bullhead, the beech, the great
blue heron, the dobsonfly larva, the water penny larva, the birch, the
redhead, the white catspaw, the elephant ear, the buckeye, the king
eider, the river darter, the sauger, the burning bush, the common
merganser, the limpet, the mayfly nymph, the cedar, the turkey
vulture, the spectacle case, the flat floater, the cherry, the red tailed
hawk, the longnose gar, the brook trout, the chestnut, the killdeer,
the river snail, the giant floater, the chokeberry, gray catbird, the
rabbitsfoot, the slenderhead darter, the crabapple, the american
robin, the creek chub, the stonefly nymph, the dogwood, the
warbling vireo, the sow bug, the elktoe, the elm, the marsh wren,
the monkeyface, the central mudminnow, the fir, the gray-cheeked
thrush, the white bass, the predaceous diving beetle, the hawthorn,
the scud, the salamander mussel, the hazelnut, the warbler, the
mapleleaf, the american eel, the hemlock, the speckled chub,
the whirligig beetle larva, the hickory, the sparrow, the caddisfly
larva, the fluted shell, the horse chestnut, the wartyback, the white
heelsplitter, the larch, the pine grosbeak, the brook stickleback, the
river redhorse, the locust, the ebonyshelf, the giant water bug, the
maple, the eastern phoebe, the white sucker, the creek heelsplitter,
the mulberry, the crane fly larva, the mountain madtom, the oak,
the bank swallow, the wabash pigtoe, the damselfly larva, the
pine, the stonecat, the kidneyshell, the plum, the midge larva, the
eastern sand darter, the rose, the purple wartyback, the narrow-
winged damselfly, the spruce, the pirate perch, the threehorn
wartyback, the sumac, the black fly larva, the redside dace, the
tree-of-heaven, the orange-foot pimpleback, the dragonfly larva,
the walnut, the gold fish, the butterfly, the striped fly larva, the
willow, the freshwater drum, the ohio pigtoe, the warmouth, the
mayfly nymph, the clubshell.
And this was just the beginning of the list.
Our hearts took on many things.
Our hearts took on new shapes, new shapes every day as we went to
the stream every day.
Our hearts took on the shape of well-defined riffles and pools, clean
substrates, woody debris, meandering channels, floodplains, and
mature streamside forests.
Our hearts took on the shape of the stream and became riffled and
calmed and muddy and clean and flooded and shrunken dry.
Our hearts took on the shape of whirligigs swirling across the water.
We shaped our hearts into the sycamore trees along the side of the
stream and we let into our hearts the long pendulous polygamous
racemes of its small green flowers, the first-formed male flowers
with no pistil and then the later arriving hairy ovary with its two
curved stigmas.
We let ourselves love the one day of the adult life of the mayfly as it
swarms, mates in flight, and dies all without eating.
And we shaped our hearts into the water willow and into the eggs
spawned in the water willow.
Our hearts took on the brilliant blues, reds, and oranges of breeding
male rainbow darter and our hearts swam to the female rainbow
darter and we poked her side with our snout as she buried herself
under the gravel and we laid upon her as she vibrated.
We let leaves and algae into our hearts and then we let the mollusks
and the insects and we let the midge larvae into our heart and then
the stonefly nymph and then a minnow came into our heart and with
it a bass and then we let the blue heron fly in, the raccoon amble by,
the snapping turtle and the watersnake also.
We immersed ourselves in the shallow stream. We lied down on the
rocks on our narrow pillow stone and let the water pass over us and
our heart was bathed in glochida and other things that attach to the
flesh.
And as we did this we sang.
We sang gentle now.
Gentle now clubshell,
don’t add to heartache.
Gentle now warmouth, mayfly nymph,
don’t add to heartache.
Gentle now willow, freshwater drum, ohio pigtoe,
don’t add to heartache.
Gentle now walnut, gold fish, butterfly, striped fly larva,
don’t add to heartache.
Gentle now black fly larva, redside dace, tree-of-heaven, orange-
foot pimpleback, dragonfly larva,
don’t add to heartache.
Gentle now purple wartyback, narrow-winged damselfly, spruce,
pirate perch, threehorn wartyback, sumac,
don’t add to heartache.
Gentle now pine, stonecat, kidneyshell, plum, midge larva, eastern
sand darter, rose,
don’t add to heartache.
Gentle now creek heelsplitter, mulberry, crane fly larva, mountain
madtom, oak, bank swallow, wabash pigtoe, damselfly larva,
don’t add to heartache.
Gentle now pine grosbeak, brook stickleback, river redhorse, locust,
ebonyshelf, giant water bug, maple, eastern phoebe, white sucker,
don’t add to heartache.
Gentle now whirligig beetle larva, hickory, sparrow, caddisfly larva,
fluted shell, horse chestnut, wartyback, white heelsplitter, larch,
don’t add to heartache.
Gentle now white bass, predaceous diving beetle, hawthorn, scud,
salamander mussel, hazelnut, warbler, mapleleaf, american eel,
hemlock, speckled chub,
don’t add to heartache.
Gentle now stonefly nympth, dogwood, warbling vireo, sow bug,
elktoe, elm, marsh wren, monkeyface, central mudminnow, fir,
gray-cheeked thrush,
don’t add to heartache.
Gentle now longnose gar, brook trout, chestnut, killdeer, river snail,
giant floater, chokeberry, gray catbird, rabbitsfoot, slenderhead
darter, crabapple, american robin, creek chub,
don’t add to heartache.
Gentle now king eider, river darter, sauger, burning bush, common
merganser, limpet, mayfly nymph, cedar, turkey vulture, spectacle
case, flat floater, cherry, red tailed hawk,
don’t add to heartache.
Gentle now black sandshell, ash, american bittern, harelip sucker,
yellow bullhead, beech, great blue heron, dobsonfly larva, water
penny larva, birch, redhead, white catspaw, elephant ear, buckeye,
don’t add to heartache.
Gentle now, we sang,
Circle our heart in rapture, in love-ache. Circle our heart.
 

four

It was not all long lines of connection and utopia.
It was a brackish stream and it went through the field beside our
house.
But we let into our hearts the brackish parts of it also.
Some of it knowingly.
We let in soda cans and we let in cigarette butts and we let in pink
tampon applicators and we let in six pack of beer connectors and
we let in various other pieces of plastic that would travel through
the stream.
And some of it unknowingly.
We let the run off from agriculture, surface mines, forestry, home
wastewater treatment systems, construction sites, urban yards,
and roadways into our hearts.
We let chloride, magnesium, sulfate, manganese, iron, nitrite/
nitrate, aluminum, suspended solids, zinc, phosphorus, fertilizers,
animal wastes, oil, grease, dioxins, heavy metals and lead go
through our skin and into our tissues.
We were born at the beginning of these things, at the time of
chemicals combining, at the time of stream run off.
These things were a part of us and would become more a part of us
but we did not know it yet.
Still we noticed enough to sing a lament.
To sing in lament for whoever lost her elephant ear lost her
mountain madtom
and whoever lost her butterfly lost her harelip sucker
and whoever lost her white catspaw lost her rabbitsfoot
and whoever lost her monkeyface lost her speckled chub
and whoever lost her wartyback lost her ebonyshell
and whoever lost her pirate perch lost her ohio pigtoe lost her
clubshell.
 

five

What I did not know as I sang the lament of what was becoming lost
and what was already lost was how this loss would happen.
I did not know that I would turn from the stream to each other.
I did not know I would turn to each other.
That I would turn to each other to admire the softness of each
other’s breast, the folds of each other’s elbows, the brightness
of each other’s eyes, the smoothness of each other’s hair, the
evenness of each other’s teeth, the firm blush of each other’s lips,
the firm softness of each other’s breasts, the fuzz of each other’s
down, the rich, ripe pungency of each other’s smell, all of it, each
other’s cheeks, legs, neck, roof of mouth, webbing between the
fingers, tips of nails and also cuticles, hair on toes, whorls on
fingers, skin discolorations.
I turned to each other.
Ensnared, bewildered, I turned to each other and from the stream.
I turned to each other and I began to work for the chemical
factory and I began to work for the paper mill and I began to work
for the atomic waste disposal plant and I began to work at
keeping men in jail.
I turned to each other.
I didn’t even say goodbye elephant ear, mountain madtorn, butterfly,
harelip sucker, white catspaw, rabbitsfoot, monkeyface, speckled
chub, wartyback, ebonyshell, pirate perch, ohio pigtoe, clubshell.
I replaced what I knew of the stream with Lifestream Total
Cholesterol Test Packets, with Snuggle Emerald Stream Fabric
Softener Dryer Sheets, with Tisserand Aromatherapy Aroma-
Stream Cartridges, with Filter Stream Dust Tamer, and Streamzap PC
Remote Control, Acid Stream Launcher, and Viral Data Stream.
I didn’t even say goodbye elephant ear, mountain madtorn, butterfly,
harelip sucker, white catspaw, rabbitsfoot, monkeyface, speckled
chub, wartyback, ebonyshell, pirate perch, ohio pigtoe, clubshell.
I put a Streamline Tilt Mirror in my shower and I kept a crystal
Serenity Sphere with a Winter Stream view on my dresser.
I didn’t even say goodbye elephant ear, mountain madtorn, butterfly,
harelip sucker, white catspaw, rabbitsfoot, monkeyface, speckled
chub, wartyback, ebonyshell, pirate perch, ohio pigtoe, clubshell.
I bought a Gulf Stream Blue Polyester Boat Cover for my 14-16 Foot
V-Hull Fishing boat with beam widths up to sixty-eight feet and I
talked about value stream management with men in suits over a desk.
I didn’t even say goodbye elephant ear, mountain madtorn, butterfly,
harelip sucker, white catspaw, rabbitsfoot, monkeyface, speckled
chub, wartyback, ebonyshell, pirate perch, ohio pigtoe, clubshell.
I just turned to each other and the body parts of the other suddenly
glowed with the beauty and detail that I had found in the stream.
I put my head together on a narrow pillow and talked with each other
all night long.
And I did not sing.
I did not sing otototoi; dark, all merged together, oi.
I did not sing groaning words.
I did not sing otototoi; dark, all merged together, oi.
I did not sing groaning words.
I did not sing o wo, wo, wo!
I did not sing I see, I see.
I did not sing wo, wo!
from the book WELL THEN THERE NOW / Black Sparrow Press
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Cover of Well Then There Now
What Sparks Poetry:
Juliana Spahr on "Gentle Now Don't Add to Heartache"


"Humans do not show up until the eighth section of sixteen. The chant is enumerative, but not merely enumerative. In the list of flora and fauna that the Kumulipo includes, humans come after birds, bats, and fish and before octopus, coral, and eel. I know of almost no examples of a poem with such an ecosystem, such a hope, such a possibility, such a reminder. And if I had to start to try to figure out what poetry is in this moment of ecological crisis, I might start there."
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