The Han River
It rarely rains where I live now. When it does, the dry flood channels fill with grey street wash. There are not many places where you can go to watch the water pass. Feeling the longing to see the comfort of any such river I found a spot behind an industrial park where what little stream there was could be seen up close.
It was like a mountain stream in size, before enough tributaries added enough volume to make it deep. The opacity of the liquid was dense though, being the first street wash of the season. The underbelly of traffic added its share when racers splashed through dips like boys in boots with sidewalk puddles against the girls. Near the edge of the stream there were little eddies of tan as the surface dirt mingled into oblivion.
I thought of the Exxon Valdez and the helpful bacteria which formed this early planet. Specialized organisms which eat whatever waste needs to be concentrated in the earth's crust abounded in the early days. In these latter days, they have reappeared to help us eat the mess we've made for dinner. Would the carbon compounds now before me find their way to happier hunting grounds?
I was told later that there are no longer bull rushes to soak up the soup as water collects along its way to the rio grande. Too many fires from this flamable brew for urbanites to be at peace. Sterilization is the norm from kitchen to field. All bacteria is bad (it begins with "b" doesn't it?). Only gold is good. Thus we've made a monster mad as Medusa from our mops and methods.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge came to mind as I watched the water wash by. Do you remember?
In Köhln, a town of monks and bones,
And pavements fang'd with murderous stones
And rags, and hags, and hideous wenches;
I counted two and seventy stenches,
All well defined, and several stinks!
Ye Nymphs that reign o'er sewers and sinks,
The river Rhine, it is well known,
Doth wash your city of Cologne;
But tell me, Nymphs, what power divine
Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine?
[composed 1828, published 1834]
(p. 159, Holt, Rinehart and Winston, Inc. 1966)
It was like a mountain stream in size, before enough tributaries added enough volume to make it deep. The opacity of the liquid was dense though, being the first street wash of the season. The underbelly of traffic added its share when racers splashed through dips like boys in boots with sidewalk puddles against the girls. Near the edge of the stream there were little eddies of tan as the surface dirt mingled into oblivion.
I thought of the Exxon Valdez and the helpful bacteria which formed this early planet. Specialized organisms which eat whatever waste needs to be concentrated in the earth's crust abounded in the early days. In these latter days, they have reappeared to help us eat the mess we've made for dinner. Would the carbon compounds now before me find their way to happier hunting grounds?
I was told later that there are no longer bull rushes to soak up the soup as water collects along its way to the rio grande. Too many fires from this flamable brew for urbanites to be at peace. Sterilization is the norm from kitchen to field. All bacteria is bad (it begins with "b" doesn't it?). Only gold is good. Thus we've made a monster mad as Medusa from our mops and methods.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge came to mind as I watched the water wash by. Do you remember?
In Köhln, a town of monks and bones,
And pavements fang'd with murderous stones
And rags, and hags, and hideous wenches;
I counted two and seventy stenches,
All well defined, and several stinks!
Ye Nymphs that reign o'er sewers and sinks,
The river Rhine, it is well known,
Doth wash your city of Cologne;
But tell me, Nymphs, what power divine
Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine?
[composed 1828, published 1834]
(p. 159, Holt, Rinehart and Winston, Inc. 1966)
Labels: Colorado River, Flamingo Wash, Las Vegas, suicide
posted by John and Lee Perazzo, Las Vegas, Nevada at 2:49 AM
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