{"id":1951,"date":"2013-09-09T18:17:29","date_gmt":"2013-09-10T02:17:29","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/?p=1951"},"modified":"2013-09-10T06:56:39","modified_gmt":"2013-09-10T14:56:39","slug":"nelson-bentley","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/?p=1951","title":{"rendered":"Nelson Bentley"},"content":{"rendered":"

A slight break in protocol today in order to present this unpublished poem by the late\u00a0Nelson Bentley,<\/a> dated 1954. \u00a0Many thanks to Sean Bentley for the opportunity to publish a beloved figure in Washington’s poetic history one more time.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Kalaloch: Looking Toward Destruction Island<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A driftwood barricade blends into dying pines.
\nOn the beach, Thomas\u2019s hullabalooing clams,
\nGull and pipers, run
\nThrough a creek where it meets the ocean.
\nThe tide\u2019s rolling
\nBacks me toward driftwood. Destruction Island
\nWith its white lighthouse is a long black rock
\nSome miles at sea. A tree holds roots aloft,
\nFoot and head<\/p>\n

Irrelevant in the pattern.
\nThe low roar of ocean
\nTakes voice in the first row of whitecaps.
\nThe horizon towers. Stillness deep
\nIn driftwood juts seaward. In the last rim of pines
\nA crow calls. One washed-up trunk points
\nInland like a cannon, roots smoothed as shell.
\nGulls and creek water are smally<\/p>\n

Beautiful as I walk pushing a buggy.
\nGull feathers, shell fragments, lodge and dislodge.
\nSandpipers run on their reflections,
\nBetween wave reaches.
\nA clan of shells on the wet
\nMirror spread butterfly wings, just lit,
\nBlack on fresh fragrant sand.
\nI watch the pipers, white bellies and<\/p>\n

Speckled backs, fragile feet, bills dabbing, as they run
\nTo keep on the verge. What focuses the scene
\nIs the slender human footprint
\nBeside the assortment of twelve bright stones;
\nBeth\u2019s brown form and black hair,
\nFar down the tidal fringe;
\nShawn at four months in blue turtleneck sweater,
\nAlert eyes from his buggy above the foam\u2019s reach.<\/p>\n

Beside him, in the wet sand, a gull flies.
\nFoaming cold swirls around my ankles,
\nBrushed by gullfeathers.
\nFlying pipers sound over surf\u2019s white thundering.
\nThe tide digs hollows
\nUnder my heels;
\nThe sandpipers\u2019 feet and their
\nReflections dance the shore.<\/p>\n

(1954)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Nelson Bentley<\/a>\u00a0(1918 \u2013 1990)\u00a0\u00a0studied under\u00a0W. H. Auden. He was a friend and colleague of\u00a0Theodore Roethke, among other\u00a0Northwest\u00a0poets who created a distinct regional voice. In his forty years as a professor at the University of Washington, he conducted workshops, hosted readings at literary venues around the city and on radio and public television, juried poetry contests, edited poetry for journals and newspapers, and was a co-founder of\u00a0Poetry Northwest<\/a>\u00a0<\/em>and\u00a0The Seattle Review<\/a>.<\/em> Although he was a fine poet in his own right, he believed his own greatest accomplishment to be his work in teaching hundreds of other poets who published in nationally recognized poetry outlets. He founded the\u00a0Castalia Reading Series<\/a>, which started at the University of Washington in the mid-seventies and continues today. \u00a0The Friends of Nelson Bentley<\/a>\u00a0continue to celebrate his life and legacy.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

A slight break in protocol today in order to present this unpublished poem by the late\u00a0Nelson Bentley, dated 1954. \u00a0Many thanks to Sean Bentley for the opportunity to publish a beloved figure in Washington’s poetic history one more time.   … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[188,545,32,61,153,8,1],"tags":[656,655],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1951"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1951"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1951\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1955,"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1951\/revisions\/1955"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1951"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1951"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/kathleenflenniken.com\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1951"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}