“Disney’s ‘Boggy Creek’ Real”

(September 5, 2018)

Disney’s Boggy Creek

and real one in Arkansas

both have ‘Skunk Apes’*

 

  • (Actually, the Florida Boggy Creek is beside Disney World in rural – but not for long – Osceola County.  I have waded its slow-moving crystal waters through Bayhead Cypress with nighthawks and Great Horned Owls watching my every step…more probably to see what munchable I might have stirred from that stew.  I swear Oscar Perez, my Sanford tennis buddy, and I saw a peculiar sight in 1966 or so one full moon day  after hearing a tremendous crash through the palmetto thickets lining the high banks of Blue Springs Run in nearby Volusia County and saw a darkly- and fully-haired tall “man” wearing tatters of a white shirt and busted-out trousers whose arms swung rhythmically as he took strides that spanned the two-laned dirt-track “road” whose sand bore not a single foot-impression…but the over-riding feeling of looming doom perhaps was concocted by the overwhelming stench of foul breath and rotting vegetation which we followed until the crashing noise of the creature/man’s course of but one big splash and more crashing noises as whatever-it-(or who)-was ruse up the other side of the 10-foot or more bank of the pristine then-jungled little stream that fed into the primordial St. Johns River of my 1950s and ’60s youth.  I am certain it was a man. But what kind who could span a 50-foot wide riverbanks and 15-foot-wide creekbed with rushing water in but three or five full steps?  And what we both saw later than night in an entirely different vein was much more frightening.)

“A Lovely Lady Said…” Tanka 2051

(September 7, 2018)

a lovely lady

said to me: why, you are good

so much…easily

 

see just the clothes on the line

and not beating on river rocks*

 

*(Thus, Lady Yassy: I would show you pages of notes, editorial markups in newspaperese fashion, crossed-off words and lines, circles with alternates with question marks demanding attention, orphan lines and sometimes whole paragraphs and ignored words begging or pleading  – you tell me: I am afraid to look anymore sometimes – and for each full-born thing I adore I endure worry and work and constant – well, not fear, but concern how and what and why and when and most of all who – self-criticism.  But the chortles, the guffaws and right-side head upward smiling nods and smothered but still-mirthful gotchas make it all more than worth…like photography: take 300 pictures. Thirty will be usable; ten will be wonderful and maybe, just maybe, one (or three: hope and plead) will make you happy all by yourself late at night with hardly a light on except the shine from a candle onto a half-blank page.)