Urgent Call for Poems about Trees from Poets who Love Them

Call out from Susan McCaslin -

The Han Shan Project: An Urgent Call for Poems about Trees from Poets 

who Love Them

Han Shan was an ancient Chinese poet who posted his poems on the trees 

and rocks of Cold Mountain. In the spirit of Han Shan….

o Join our effort to speak for the trees of McLellan Forest East, an 

endangered rainforest in Glen Valley, Langley, BC. It could be sold for 

private development and logged after Dec. 17th.


o Send us a tree poem and we’ll post it on a tree in the forest. One poem 

per poet. Keep it to one page with your name at the bottom. Small photo 

of you is okay.

o This is the west coast, so poems about species such as fir, hemlock, 

cedar, hemlock, spruce, bigleaf maple, black cottonwoods are especially 

relevant.

o Send your poem immediately to Susan McCaslin who can provide more 

information about the forest and the issue.
smccaslin@shaw.ca

Background: This remarkable and ecologically important forest will be 

sold by the Township of Langley for private development after Dec. 17 of 

this year if something radical is not done immediately to keep Council from 

proceeding.

For further information: http://mclellanpark.blogspot.ca/

McLellan Park Blog 
mclellanpark.blogspot.com

McLellan Park Blog mclellanpark.blogspot.com

***************************************************

This is my offering:

For the trees of McLellan Forest East:

making way

above the railway cut there stands

the gauzy remainder of our trees

city sliced down cottonwoods

bitter cherries alders

lest they stumble and slide downslope

to this new train

black tangles against evening mauve

quiet empty yard 

enclave in a loud

forgetful neighbourhood

juncoes still visit bushtits still visit

coyotes and raccoons gone

ravens saw those great silver-sided leaves

settled down in the midst of city racket

to make their nest

in those days

when the clawing began within

i stood at my window and watched the trees

breathed with them for them

with the hesitating breeze

how I sorrowed at being unable to save

even one

Casey Wolf

Grandview Cut, Vancouver

Story Sale: "Eating Our Young"

Happy news!

I've sold my story "Eating Our Young" to Chase Enterprises Publishing for publication in their new horror anthology, The Speed of Dark. There is still time to submit if you are interested--the deadline is 30 December 2012, at midnight.

"Eating Our Young" is a sad and grim allegory about the way families can unthinkingly consume their members, not out of hatred so much as out of an angry reflexiveness that, once settled into, seldom allows for compassion or heartfelt connection with those around us. It's told from the perspective of the youngest members of one particular family, Kenda and her brother Kenny.

I'll keep you posted as details arrive--publication date and all that jazz. Meanwhile, here is an excerpt from the story:

Morning arrived with the shout of her biggest sister, Enid. “Up! School! Come make our lunch!”

Kenda tripped on tangling sheets as she leapt to the door. All seven kids would stampede to the washroom but she was closest and with luck might not have to wait.

Too late. Enid was mean again and wakened James before the rest. He was the biggest boy and Enid’s favourite and slower in the bathroom than anyone. Kenda faltered at the closing door. “Can I come in, Jamie?”

“Wait your turn, Turd-Drop.”

She sighed and looked at the bristling line of bigger kids squeezing toward her, and remembered Kenny last night. It was not going to happen to her today. She ran back to her room and began to change clothes, then climbed out the window, down the rose trellis, to the dirt. No one guessed her use of the garden. Here behind the rose she yanked her shorts down, piddled, and covered the pee before climbing the trellis again. At the window she listened, peeking cautiously over the sill.

The door had drifted open. Children cried and shouted, doors slammed, water ran. Enid yelled orders. Kenda wanted to climb back in and burrow in the blank oasis of the laundry-room where she and Kenny slept. (Her idea. They’d been sneaking in to sleep together on piles of laundry for so long nobody thought about it anymore.)

No one was in the room.

 The Speed of Dark is being put out by the same folk who published Writers on the Wrong Side of the Road, in which I placed three stories (one co-authored with Paivi Kuosmanen -- the "a" should look like this: ä). 

The ebook version of WotWSotR is currently available for a mere $0.99.

P.S.! The gentleman in the photo above actually has nothing to do with the story. His was just the scariest face in my photo library when I stumbled there at 7 AM in search of an appropriate pic. Wouldn't want an actual pic of the content of this story. Although... I could make something...