Narcoleptic oblivion

Narcoleptic oblivion; People reel, stagger! Tranced upon viscous wine.

Xerosis yaws Zion; 

Awake! Behold crimson depths ensuing from gashes hewed in Jerusalem's King.

Languish, marvel.

“Eutrophia [Necrosis]” — plus explication

“Eutrophia [Necrosis]”

Of euphoria, my child,

            we’ve let the ocean drink her fill.

           Pour for her,

   through a plow furrowed lattice,

like rich fermented tea,

     a laughing draft

             of strength and vigor

               

  And she will dress herself in red,

               a scarlet gown to lap her feet

                         like coming of the tide,

                     and crown her head with auburn blooms.

                       

She will rise and fill her belly with the heavy drink.

  And the ocean would not fall with ease,

      armed with strength

and a bladed cornucopia,

    if not for the scarlet strands about her heart

and red folds about her lungs.

 Her nurseries choke on algae blood

   and she with them could

            drown, hypoxic and vigor drunk.

-     Elijah Marshal

The poem discusses the issue of the overuse of fertilizer in farming, which leads to the process of eutrophication, particularly in the Gulf of Mexico. The word “eutrophication” comes from the greek roots eu-, meaning, ”well" and trephein, meaning “nourished,” and describes the process in which excess fertilizer runs off into streams, and the resulting jump in nutrients cause aquatic plant and algae numbers to increase, called an “algal bloom.” The exponential growth cannot be maintained, and as they die and decompose, oxygen is depleted to the point of causing mass kills of fish and other oxygen breathing aquatic animals.

The title immediately tries to express the contrast of the growth/death aspects of this process. “Eutrophia” is not an actual word, but rather a derivation of the Greek roots previously explained and “Necrosis” being a word that refers to the mass death of all the cells in an organism or tissue. “Necrosis” is in square brackets because it is standard in academic writing that when foreign words or phrases are used, the translation is put in brackets. It is by no means a literal translation, but it is a translation of the process.

The first stanza establishes the setting of the poem, pointing out that this instance of “euphoria” — alluding to eutrophication — is occurring, not merely in small streams, but also in ocean systems. “Pour for her, / through a plow furrowed lattice, / like rich fermented tea, / a laughing draft / of strength and vigor” describes the agricultural origin of many, if not most, eutrophication events. I chose to describe the fertilizer rich mixture as alcoholic because, despite being a depressant, it can lead to feelings of jubilation and wellbeing. Tolkien’s frequent use of the word “draft” is likely the reason behind my liking and use of it.

The next stanza describes the resulting spike in algae. Particularly in the Gulf of Mexico, the algae that dominates the algal blooms are often orangish-red in color, and the resulting bloom is called a “red tide.” This is the type of bloom described in the lines “a scarlet gown to lap her feet / like coming of the tide, / and crown her head with auburn blooms.” The decision to personify the ocean came partially from author Gary Snider, whose environmental poetry inspired this poem. He often personifies aspects of nature in his writings. It also came from Tolkien’s many epic-like poems which detail the lives of mythic figures.

Next, the line, “And the ocean would not fall with ease, / armed with strength / and a bladed cornucopia,” describes the generally strong ecosystems that are based in the ocean. It was also an attempt to show the fact that the ocean can be a great resource to people will at the same time can be very dangerous. This line and, in particular, the phrase “bladed cornucopia” were inspired by a song by the band Thrice, in which they allude to Job 1:21, stating, “I'm starting to believe the ocean's much like you, ‘cause it gives, and it takes away” (“Open Water”). After describing the ocean’s strength, the poem describes its weakness saying, “if not for the scarlet strands about her heart / and red folds about her lungs.” This is again a reference to the red tides, but it is also an allusion to a personal experience I had in which I almost got blood poisoning, also known as sepsis. I had an infection in my knee that was caught just before it went septic, and I was told the next symptom I would have seen was red streaks or strands heading up my leg toward my heart, which is where the imagery in these lines came from.

The last stanza describes the end result of eutrophication, which is the death and decomposition of the algae and the exhaustion of oxygen. The poem ends: “Her nurseries choke on algae blood / and she with them could / drown, hypoxic and vigor drunk.” “Nurseries” refer to estuaries, which are where rivers enter the ocean. Many fish and marine life spawn and lay their eggs in estuaries and are very sensitive to pollutants. Finally, that the ocean could drown “hypoxic and vigor drunk” refers to the technical term for extreme oxygen depletion in a system, “hypoxia.”

“For there can be no bridge without the shore”

“For there can be no bridge without the shore”

And I cannot speak the shades 

  Of blackberry violet into the eyes the blind,

Nor can I transcribe the tones of birdsong into the ears of the deaf.

Tell me, can you speak

       the roar of the wind

    onto the skin of the stillborn child? or convince her that she lived in a world

where sunrises and the moon are real things

  And make her to see the silver and amber of their morning and midnight sheens?

  I like to think of myself as weaver of words,

      A forge of phonetic ore.

  But words like to be unwieldy things,

     signposts wedged

                                  in the gap

      between Thing and it signifying Shadow,

 And I find that the thick rippling scars

     Where I’ve welded them together

                Cannot always be polished out,

And that I’m gracefully constrained

  To be not a creator

    But merely a re-arranger.

     

    Words are bridges in need of a shore.

       Their burdens are keyholes

           In a bolted cedar wood door,

     And for keyholes, we have, for making more, poems for shotguns.

 But, no matter how many poetically gunpowdered keyholes

I arrange into these doors,

      I cannot seem to say what I see — do you see what I’m saying?

      Of course, I know that you do

                   but do you see what I see?

There is One who’s words rumble

     with undertones of reality,

          swallowing that abyssal gap called blindness    

resounding visceral and honey thick,  

 sounding more violet than the one on my lips and on this page.

Let us see they are our only hope.

Let them raise beaches from the bottom of the sea.

— Elijah Marshall