PINELANDS ~ PIPELAND: Road to Ruin – Poems of This Imperiled Region

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Pump House, Clouds and Lilies in Waters of Haines Cranberry Bogs, Chatsworth

A trio of poems, arrow’s in this activist’s quiver:

Probably all NJWILDBEAUTY readers know that, last Friday, the Pinelands Commission DARED approve the first pipeline in New Jersey’s Crown Jewel: The Pine Barrens.  This one is “The South Jersey Gas Pipeline Project.”  A pipeline by any name would smell as foul.  The Pinelands Commission was founded to preserve, protect, even enhance this 1.1 million-acre wooded region, sited atop the legendary 17-trillion-gallion Kirkwood-Cohansey aquifer of highest quality water.

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Traditional Cranberry Harvest Tool

 

Former NJ Governors Brendan Byrne, Jim Florio and Christine Todd Whitman joined forces to file a Friend of Court Brief to overturn approval of the Pipeline.  But the forces of greed have won anew, and New Jersey will never be the same.  Our beautiful state is being turned into a Sacrifice Zone, and who is to arrest this destruction?

 

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Essence of the Bogs, Chatsworth

 

Once, I lamented to a caller, “I’m a poet.  What am I doing at the barricades?”  The activist on the other end of the line retorted, “Carolyn, that’s where poets belong.”

I’m not good with barricades.  Although I support and thrill to effective protest marches, they are beyond my physical/spiritual/mental/emotional strength.

 

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Pinelands’ Pristine Tannic Waters, Batsto

The only arrows in my quiver are Pinelands poems.  Here are a few, to remind NJWILDBEAUTY readers of what we are about to forfeit:

This was one of the original “Hot Poems by Cool Women”, a favorite of what we came to see as our poetic groupies, as our various new volumes reached the public through readings:

 

IT ALL STARTED

 

when we came upon

carpets of stars

cranberries in flower

trembling white below

the ice blue sky

 

along the hard-packed dikes

slumbrous bees

formed golden pyramids

on gleaming amber boxes

 

dawn’s pollinators

here to burst all bonds

course among broad acres

of waving stamens

 

at day’s end we stood on tiptoe

plucking first blued berries

from among the mauve and pink

at the tips of overarching bushes

 

tucked among hollies and sheep laurel

through thickets and tunnels

we made our way to the sea

mouths awash in warm berries

 

CAROLYN FOOTE EDELMANN

Cool Women, Volume I

 

RESURGENT

 

I long to slip into
peat water

watch my long legs turn
orange, then burnt sienna
bathed in tannins of old leaves
and newly desiccated needles
having steeped over the centuries
between primordial banks

I belong to the Pines and its peat
whether striding or swimming
requiring levels and mystery
–silent liquidities
–eloquent duskiness
even on bright days

over there, on a low branch
a slim snake twines
somnolent and sure

overhead, in the pine tops
winds echo ocean
near yet far

time keeps these waters warm
enough to welcome legs
too long denied the Pinelands

see how my limbs flicker and flash
–burnished in peatwater
–flames in the depths

CAROLYN FOOTE EDELMANN
US 1 Fiction Issue,

D&R Greenway Poets of Preservation

Written in Princeton Hospital
Immediately post-op  – 11 11 11

CRANAPPLE PIE

 

I’ve gathered apples of our Barrens

to blend with bright cranberries

sparked with honey of dawn’s bees

we two once awakened

on Chatsworth’s sandy dikes

 

I craft a random European tart

— ragged edges, coverless

in honor of your world that I so crave

in memory of ragged days, uncovered nights

 

the luminous glaze

oddly recollects

your ignited gaze

thrown back at me

in this new solitude

 

every inch of rooms you cherished

becomes apple-fragrant

our joyous kitchen above all

 

my fruits become a brigand’s cache

–rubies tossed with fine abandon

as I once flung caution to wild winds

when you stretched out fine hands

luring me, pirate-like, to irresistible back bays

 

CAROLYN FOOTE EDELMANN

                                                Cool Women, Volume Two

 

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Jersey’s Jewels, Sugar Sand, Chatsworth

 

Once, I carried books of others’ poems into hearings at Prallsville Mills, in my futile, idealistic attempt to convince decision-makers not to allow “The Villas of Tuscany”, –currently “Barclay Square” –, towering condos.  to profane our cherished, historic D&R Canal and Towpath.

I read words of Paul Muldoon and Gerry Stern and friends who later became the Cool Women, insisting that art is born in New Jersey beauty.  Trampling her open spaces, defiling sightlines of the canal — for these travesties are visible even deep down upon her waters in a kayak — destroys not only habitat for essential wild creatures.  It also spells the end of inspiration, the cessation of art catalyzed in these storied reaches.

Pipelines are nonessential, destructive, temporary in terms of jobs provided, and threaten ignition of the Pines and fouling of the pristine waters of the Pine Barrens.

Don’t let this happen.  Use whatever arrows are in your quiver to preserve, protect, and even enhance our entire state!

 

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Cranberries on the Vine, Chatsworth

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Pine Barrens Just-Picked Dry-harvested Cranberries as Sauce Extraordinaire, Back Home

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Cranberry Dry Harvest, Early November, 2015

This rich harvest tour took place through Pinelands Adventures: http://www.pinelandsadventures.org;

Which organization has come into being under the auspices of ever-militant, thoroughly vigilant Pinelands Preservation Alliance:  JOIN THEM — they turn around damage to the Pines, week after week after week:  http://www.pinelandsalliance.org

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Batsto Barn – Pine Barrens’ Mercantile History, Legendary Iron Forge Village

Without  “The Iron in the Pines”, from forges such as Batsto and Allaire and Martha’s Furnace, and beyond, George Washington would not have had cannon balls nor wagon wheels for Revolutionary Battles.  Pinelands shipbuilders and ship’s captains effectively fought the British and the Hessians, boldly advertising auctions of stores of captured ships in Philadelphia papers.  Mullica Rivermen rowed with muffled oars to change the course of history.  It is said, we would not have a country without the Mullica, without the Pine Barrens!

 

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“Sarah Palin Says It’s All My Fault” and Other Political Poems

American Flag at Stern of the Twilight Steamboat on the Mississippi

American Flag at Stern of the Twilight Steamboat on the Mississippi

When friends and I were furiously fighting with Princeton University to preserve the hallowed Princeton Nursery Lands in Kingston, I lamented to one of them that night, “But I’m a poet!  What am I doing at the barricades?”

The friend brilliantly retorted, “But Carolyn, poets BELONG at the barricades.”

I returned, chastened, to the battle.  Ultimately, we saved a handful of acres, and the Friends of Princeton Nursery Lands was formed and thrives, leading informative trail walks, planting Flemer Nursery trees, sponsoring annual clean-ups, such as the very successful recent one on Martin Luther King Day.  FPNL aims to restore the classic nursery buildings, stalled now by insufficient fundings.  NJWILBEAUTY readers can assist by going onto the FPNL website and donating, and coming to their enriching events.

In the intervening years, in amongst nature poems, which I share with NJWILDBEAUTY readers, I have increasingly written political poems.

My fury over the indifference of politicians to the plight of the planet, results in my deciding to share some of the more radical political poems of recent years with my readers.

“Sarah Palin Says It’s All My Fault” won on-line publication at the time of the Gulf Oil Spill.  Now politicians, including the the President we thought knew better and would prevent profanation of the planet, want to drill for oil off-shore, in already imperiled New Jersey, and also puncture her north, south, east, west and especially the Pine Barrens for the spoils of Fracking!

Do what you can, readers, with your legislators, wherever you live, to arrest despoilation of the Planet.  

Pipeline! Along D&R Canal south of Princeton, Our Historic Bucolic Waterway, Our Water SUPPLY!

Pipeline! Along D&R Canal south of Princeton, Our Historic Bucolic Waterway, Our Water SUPPLY!

Here’s my Sarah Poem.

POETS FOR LIVING WATERS

Creating venues for poetry in support of healthy ocean communities

DEAR SARAH PALIN, by Carolyn Foote Edelmann

Posted on June 21, 2010 by Heidi Lynn Staples

DEAR SARAH PALIN,

I understand it’s all my fault
–this Gulf oil disaster, I mean–
not only all that fire
bodies catapulted into air
then drowned
soon likely shark bait
but also this volcano of oil
spewing interminably
into our blue mantle

Sarah, you say
I did this
all of this and more
now some six weeks ago
with no end in sight
and no businessman
politician not even a general
let alone you, Sarah Palin,
knows how to stop
this tornado of oil

it’s also my fault, the oiled birds
Northern gannets
–pristine as Josephine
in her Empire gown
frail white silk
adorned with gold
though not quite bees
dark eyes snapping
as she becomes increasingly encased
in ‘my’ oil
more abruptly than all those mastodons
in La Brea’s tar pits

now slender cormorants
who, everyone is sure, are drowning
as they swim along
neck barely afloat
no one realizing
the genius of cormorants
who can fly/swim 30 miles an hour
underwater
when they are not oiled

about the mpg of my car
my old car
for the ownership of which
I am quite guilty
for the replacement of which
I have no means

cormorants
must wave both wings
after every dive
to dry them
so that they may
dive and dive again
–no wave strong enough
to shake off ceaseless poison weight
of oil

it’s my fault, the reddish egrets
you know his own epitaph
written by photographer Ted Cross
for his own recent death
describing his multi-faceted self
on the Other Side
“still searching for the perfect photograph
of the reddish egret”

Ted did not have in mind
this soiled oiled specimen
trying, unsuccessfully
to lift newly leaden
legs wings and feet
out of Gulf mud muck and oil

it’s all my fault
and not because I use the wrong lightbulbs
in a couple of fixtures
nor because I do turn on the heat.
inside, in winter, sometimes
although I’ve been doing without air
conditioning so far this troubled year

it’s my fault
because I am an “extreme environmentalist”
because I think there should never be any more
drilling for oil in our country
because I deplore petrotyrrany
the privatization of profits
socialization of poverty
because I think we should start with the auto companies

well, what do you expect, Sarah?
I grew up in Detroit

I’ve never seen a wolf in the wild
as you do and deplore
–these beings you condemn to bloody deaths
I would embrace

nor have I encountered
a single polar bear
let alone a starving female trying to find food
for her new brood
attempting to swim with them
toward vanishing ice floes

but that’s o.k. with you
Sarah
it makes the hunting
easier

it’s my fault, Sarah
for I am quite literally
a tree hugger

I believe that greed should end
America return to her original nobility
where people pledged lives
fortunes
sacred honor
remember sacred honor?
— ah, well, probably not, Sarah

I believe we are our Planet’s
Keepers

Sarah – who are you?

~~~~~~~~~~

STATEMENT
what everyone must remember, wherever anyone lives (not only those of us in New Jersey’s key migratory corridor, the only state with three coastlines) is that these are our birds, our waters.  Because of the Gulf Stream, this catastrophe is global.  We may have passed the tipping point.  We are all the oiled pelican.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OK, that’s not the only political poem these days:

 

SHIP OF STATE

 

Roosevelt died again

— I can’t help it!

I keep reading histories/

biographies of WWII

 

and he’s there

at the helm

jaunty, sure

eyes all asparkle

despite Depression

war-on-two fronts

cigarette slanted

in that elegant holder

easy at the wheel

 

no circling shadows yet

dim those piercing eyes – nothing

forces the wide and reassuring grin

from that dashing face

— emblem of my childhood

 

he can sail forever

circumnavigate

this imperiled globe

that was so much less imperiled

in his hands

 

CAROLYN FOOTE EDELMANN

January 2015

 

Here may be my most radical ever.  I see Edward Snowden right up there with our Founding Fathers and Thomas Paine, yes, at the barricades, willing to give lives, fortunes and sacred honor so that our noble country can live, thrive, and persist.

 

Pole Farm, Lawrenceville NJ, America The Beautiful

Pole Farm, Lawrenceville NJ, America The Beautiful

 

REVOLUTIONARY HEROISM, 21ST CENTURY

 

I understand you, Edward Snowden

you find a country

notorious for terrorism

safer

than your own

 

you love your own

enough

to fight for its return

to sacred honor

blood-won rights

–privacy above all

 

you love your own

enough to give her up

hoping

that your sacrifice

will turn around

our country’s

despoilation / ruination

 

I understand you

praise your courage

 

wonder what it is that I can do

to turn the tide

 

CAROLYN FOOTE EDELMANN

January 2015

 

Preserved Farm, Essential America, Salem County NJ

Preserved Farm, Essential America, Salem County NJ