poetry pocket: dinosaurs smelled magnolias, dalton day
magnolia trees existed before bees did which means that dinosaurs smelled magnolias
dinosaurs smelled magnolias, dalton day
dear little voice,
magnolias evolved on earth as long as ninety five million years ago.
this was a time long before bumblebees- meaning that magnolias were pollinated by ancient insects. today we call these ancient insects: beetles.
although there were no bumblebees during that prehistoric rollic, there were dinosaurs.
this means that dinosaurs must have smelled magnolias.
dinosaur pleasures.
there is something about this poem, little voice.
there is something about the fact that dinosaurs smelled magnolias, and something about the fact that so I do & so I do.
in the place that i am in it is spring and the magnolias are exploding like huge, warm shells. they push their smell upon the earth like water. in the morning, they are the first thing that arrive through my window and rosy my eyes, and i have begun to wake up thinking:
dinosaurs smelled magnolias and so do I I do & so I do—
dinosaurs smelled magnolias and so do I I do & so I do—
when I smell the magnolias, I know that i am, for a moment, in a kind of deep time where what has entered me has been somewhere else before— like the cells of rain or of sweat. the magnolia is confluent with everything and is in me and i am, for a moment, in everything too.
“For deep time is measured in units that humble the human instant: millennia, epochs and aeons, instead of minutes, months and years. Deep time is kept by rock, ice, stalactites, seabed sediments and the drift of tectonic plates. Seen in deep time, things come alive that seemed inert. New responsibilities declare themselves. Ice breathes. Rock has tides. Mountains rise and fall. We live on a restless Earth.”
when i feel alone— and i often do— i take great comfort in the smell of the magnolia, because i know it is shared, because i know it is indifferent to my human stumbles, because it is threading me through with the birdsong of yesterday, today, and tomorrow— because my only responsibility is belonging to it as but a note.
because my only responsibility is to receive it.
and suddenly i want to hang my Heart like a magnolia from every branch of every tree.
this letter has been a little more personal than others. i try not to speak too much about myself here. but today i woke and i smelled the magnolias, and i was alone. and i went to write, but the words were a flock of birds—i went to touch them and they scattered.
and so i smelled the magnolias.
& so I do & so I do,
ars poetica.
little voice: it is my belief that Poetry is a human birthright. my work will always be completely free, and takes considerable Time and Love to give to you several days a week. if it has brought you Joy, consider buying me a book so that I may continue to tuck Words in your pocket:
To me, it is so beautiful to picture magnolias being adored by dinosaurs. This is the Jurassic Age. We often portray these beasts as violent and aggressive. It's refreshingly acute to seek the grace in what was a very Darwinesque epoch. Tonight, I listen to Cousin by Wilco. I feel as though we are all connected no matter if we are supported by four legs or two. Little voices, I hope you compose artful messages in the midnight sky. Thanks. It's been a pleasure to witness your growth and maturation. See you next week or so. Perhaps I will be inspired to delve into the Autumn stars.
-- “because it is threading me through with the birdsong of yesterday, today, and tomorrow—” These words have brought me back to my own inner feelings. Thank you! Xo.