He decided organic matter could increase his
overall objectives. he would dig deep holes
fill them with straw and horse manure
in a 600 square foot section measured.
In each corner a large hole filled
with manure. in the center he would dig a hole fill it
with straw and horse manure such then would be
the sounding function to starting
a new garden.
a Culverts in culvert system was developed
to tackle the scarcity of water problem.
it looked like something someone would use
to describe an alien ship.
Deepest in the center an circle with
pie like dividers that lead center.
filled and lined.
The lining using heavy duty plastics and
stones
drilled holes in the culvert while
the exterior culvert stands to create the well effect
needed to calculate and store waters.Omukazi Pima orikushemeza
Water: Water the settling water
there often after rain
it settles here
it stay moistest here
in the vclearing
is there water here
is there water here
we shall excavate to see
there it is water
like we thought
the gallons per minute
ratio is astounding
murky these water due
to it's need of filtering
a plastic culvert with
a goetextile or silt fence
wrap with large hole drilled in
to filter the poluutates and undesirable sediment
oh clear ye the water
a halluelia in victory
clar ye these springs
water water you and me
a submersible pump and airtank system
with bring these waters to us
praise ye
praiuse ye
water;water
praise ye!
a broad tessitura
-------------------------
-------------------------
Si, oh mi amante, a quien le gusta follarme.
Auh to as to this
might love keep us together
anything isCualquier otra cosa es inaceptable.
Mi your gaurdia Sin ser amado y sin recibir amor a cambio.
I sang a Canté una canción triste por tu falta de interés;
canté una canción triste porque no me querías;
mi anhelo parece indiferente.
Entonces reconsideraste tu naturaleza reservada
para ser mi amante, con un repentino interés.
Cariño, nunca me dejes;
que jamás nos separemos;
no me dejes con el corazón roto
No sé por qué
No sé por qué
Cariño, no sé por qué
Música, música
A ella le encanta la música
Me encanta la música contigo
--------------------------------------------------
Una canción para una cantante con reputación.(feminine)
Una canción para un cantante con reputación.(masculine)
a foot bridge or culvert
We see but grey where once was green
As bulldozers now scrape,
Turning a joyful rural scene
Into joyless landscape.
The area was green-belt land
With forest and pasture
But as our numbers still expand
We will invade nature.
And so that farmland must give way
To high profit housing.
Farming that land has had its day.
Let the plunder begin.
First rip up each ancient hedgerow,
Take living loam away.
Make space for luxury homes to go.
The wildlife then must stray.
Nests and burrows can play no part
As man now owns this space.
The construction work now can start
And big profits then chase.
Soon building projects in full swing.
The stream that filled the pond
Diverted to concrete piping
In culvert underground.
Aquatic habitats destroyed.
Frogs, toads and newts homeless.
Many wildlife species now void.
But man could not care less.
Missed the ones
Not seen
Sleeping in the culvert
By the stream
Sounds carrying
Rodents scurrying
The ones not seen
Furry
Measuring each tiny step
Silence thundering on
Quietly rising
Carrying on
Doing what must
To fit in
Belong
Surviving
The multitude reaching out
Missing the ones
Not seen
Unheard in a silent scream
More rural space becomes an urban scar
As man’s machines arrive and start to scrape
Through living loam down to the dead grey clay.
Hedges ripped out and carted off to tip,
Trashing nests and burrows right from the start.
The babbling brook that supplied the small pond
Is piped to concrete culvert underground
Destroying one more vital habitat.
Now soon we see lots of luxury homes.
Synthetic stone and bright white PVC
With neat lawns made of bright green plastic grass
Ready to place a puerile plastic gnome.
No longer do we see dark sky at night,
The Milky Way being masked by amber glow.
With space to spare commercial buildings come.
More rural space becomes an urban scar.
windblown giant
turbulent tornado
blazing a sharp path
kicking away cars
rolling whole houses
pure devastation
hiding in culvert
my face in wet claylike mud
i recite prayer
You really haven’t lived life fully
Until you’ve raced down a mountain
In the rain
On a muddy, slippery trail
In a Bobcat side-by-side utility vehicle
With a twenty foot long section of twelve inch culvert
Teetering precariously on the vehicle
Trying to hold it under one arm
While attempting to steer with the other
So as to keep the Man
With the quarter million dollar excavator
From sitting around
Waiting on you
At an hourly rate
Higher than you ever dreamed of making.
When we were still young
The beach was wider here.
Fifty years of erosion will do that.
An inlet from the sea ran in
On the back side of the beach
Where there was a culvert
That ran under the road.
The change of tide brought blue crabs,
And people on the rocks vied with
Each other, sticking out pole nets
As if they were fencing,
To see who could catch the most.
Now what’s left of the beach
Has taken over the inlet,
And the edge of the shore
Is only a few feet from the road.
No more blue crabs here.
Try Cow Bay at the little bridge
Near the Bend in the Road Beach.
We used to wade in there
With our nets – you have to be fast
And twist your net just so
To catch a crab that way.
But the eelgrass is gone,
And the crabs seem to have gone
Somewhere else. It was a nuisance
To pick out the meat anyway!
The smell of a dead cat
Swelling in the culvert
Is stinking rich!
A toxic dose
It lodges in the nose
You pay the bill!
Should the president come
Let him calm
But take him there!
So after Lunch
You have your chance
Listen with your book!
If he says nothing
That is something
Forgive the cat!
Renaissance application
Reconnaissance analysis
Execution resolution
Fathom scorn
World War 4
Handsome fashion
Antichrist laughing
Culvert compassion
Resolution disaster
End of the world
World War 4
9/22/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr ©2019
(dedicated to mother India)
The garbage collection van hasn't arrive.
Two hefty black plastic bags, last night's flea blown rubbish,
Waiting to be discarded, I wait.
It's almost ten, the garbage collectors arn't coming, I presume.
Town-garbage-bin is half a mile far, I don't enjoy going there.
Honey, the house stinks - the familiar voice reverbarates.
They arn't coming, the garbage-men, I conclude.
Picking up the junks, I walk out
Into the greased January morning.
Crossing the sewer-culvert, carrying waste,
I move cautiously across a chessboard of human wastes
On the railway track.
Suddenly, flames of rain burn the air, drains become alive.
Uncaringly, a mother-cow sits on a heap of plastic bags, (not a blade of grass around) chewing plastic, I see tears in its eyes.
I may be wrong, how could a cow cry, doubtful thinking.
A car storms pass me, slurry of mud hits me square.
I become garbage.
We stink together.
Don't worry, you are ready for your eternal home,
I hear god saying, raindrops keep burning,
With wet tongues.
We have lost our sense of humor.
We chase the alligator
down Front Street,
past Mollies Convenience Store
and the County Clerk- Recorder Office.
He’s taken us under
a red sky grand,
hardly noticed.
Were it not for the children
riding on his back,
we would let him go.
They sit on him,
smooth as a new wallet,
shoes, purse.
Where in our imagination,
we ask ourselves,
have we seen this kind of thing before?
Yes, where?
Following the tip of his tail
as he heads for the culvert
we move as one,
an army
uncertain of its purpose.
The west wind brought in a
precipitous rise in temperature
serious steel grey sky rain clouds
and our second February thaw.
Almost all the snow vanished overnight
leaving brown fields and skeleton maple
trees with sap buckets full of rain.
I sip the cold water finding just a
hint of sweetness and rub the
soft fur between the dogs' ears.
Then we continue down the
concession line but the creeks
overflowed the culvert and
the road's under a foot of water
so we turn back to our warm
house and the smell of wood
smoke and coffee.
Had visitors over on the weekend
The subject turned to life's scary moments
At ten years old had a daredevil heart
Dragged this story out of retirement
Trembled like I was living it over again
With my good buddies Ken and Bob
Crawled into a narrow culvert on our bellies
Amazing how my heart still throbs
Your truly was first, then Ken, then Bob
Travelled twenty feet, then no choice
The way ahead was totally impassable
Screamed BACK UP with fear in my voice!
Ever experienced real claustrophobia?
There was no escape, no detour
Heart started beating like a damn trip hammer
Soiled my new knickers, for sure
Ever tried crawling backwards on your belly
A panicky feeling in your tummy
Bad enough, crawling backwards I mean
But embarrassing, I called for my mummy!
© Jack Ellison 2013
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