4 April 22 Red

Just as I was about to submit my post for today, Microsoft locks up my computer with a critical alert. Wouldn't you know it, I call immediately, but the Microsoft service technician hangs up on me when I tell him I don't have a cell phone. Endless follow up attempts only resulted in busy signals. Meanwhile, my laptop drones on with a repeating message that I must not shut down my computer without completing my call to Microsoft, or they will shut me down completely and forever.

So today I resort to images of nature - posting one of my old poems of oceanic breadth and rage, from an apple. 

                                                    Simple Red

The sea becalmed

bumps lazily on the wooden hulls

   indifferent to the wind and sea

simple rest

dew-struck rose at sunset

       Ahab sits stewing over his brew

ruminating with no self-pity

immense intentions with only

   simple loss to show 

   blood pulses his swollen temples

      Enraged by his own failure

Trickling through the garnet wine of shame

simple embarrassment

       flags his flushed face

The Whale’s brilliant shadow trails him

        Gigantic flukes convey him through the sea

simple abiding

crimson coursing

When Ahab sails into his red intention

    he has already forgotten the harpoon’s purpose

simple rage

scarlet delight

The Whale harbors wounded intention

He never forgets the harpoon’s bite

simply unspeakable

       this sailor’s red morning

Loss at sea looms greater

because hope is a wooden deck

  because the anchor rode stretches thin  

simple as an apple on a sill at sunset

For Ahab, the crossing brings respite from madness

     For the Whale, an ordinary, expected passage

one simple wooden step

a single fin stroke

   Ocean waves smooth away footprints

   Neither water nor sand abides

Simple rhythm in rouge

        Blood from a tanager’s wing

Sucking sand and relentless tides

Simplicity in red

Background

In the ivory pages of Moby Dick, Captain Ahab and the whale have startled generations - that is perhaps the current and recent generations that have electronically snuffed out the state response. That said, the hypnotic attraction of man and finned mammal swims the actuality behold what seems real.

My personal relationship with Ahab and Moby Dick began in high school. We had read The Scarlet Letter, The Great Gatsby, and a few Hemingway short stories such as The Snows of Kilimanjaro. Nothing prepared me for The Great White Whale and his pursuer - the book's self, the almost gritty feel of the pages, the haunted embrace of Ishmael's voice, and most of all, the ageless, mystical (un)meaning.

Even if you have not read the book, you know about it and its reputation. You likely feel haunted by the eternal pursuit, and perhaps most of all, your heart beats in unison with the ancient hunger.

Exploration 1: We are all Ahab. We all harbor our whale. If you like, explore - 

    (a) when/if you have been/are the obsessed Ahab;

    (b) identification of the "whale" you chased or that chased you.

Exploration 2: Collect all or part of the lines/phrases that contain red or tis synonyms, and give a sot at writing a haiku (5-7-5 syllable poem).

Exploration 3: Why is it that "loss at sea loom greater"?