Name: SwingStateBlues by Corie Feiner
Duration: 1 min 33 s
Description: Are you feeling the Bern, but have to vote for Hillary. If you've got the swing state blues, listen to this.

Wolves hunt down and kill their prey. A Wild boar in this case. You can also hear Red Deer.
(Vargar jagar vildsvin och dödar ett av dom).

Here is the story before the recording starts.

I was out photographing/recording. It was late, but the full moon helped lighting up my surroundings. I had the recorder in rec/pause and my headphones on, so all sounds around me was amplified like I usually have. Since I was trying to photograph animals. I was camouflaged. I rarely use a hide. Suddenly I heard that the ducks, lapwings and other birds to the left of me, flew up in the air worried about something. I looked in that direction with my binocular and then I saw two wolves coming in my direction. They were about 200m from me. The female (smaller) was about 50m ahead of the male. She stopped when she was about 40m from me a little to the left. She probably “sensed” that I was there… She sat down and looked around. The male wolf came straight at me since he was to the right of the female from my view. He stopped at about 30m from me. He stared at me or in my direction for 5 minutes… I was leaning to the left in a not so comfort position so I said to myself, please go now… my back hurts, but he didn’t. Instead, he lay down in the grass… and he continued staring at me (or my not camouflaged mic). I was completely still and after a few minutes he started to look around instead. The female passed him and lay down further away to the right of me. After 10-15 minutes he joined her. They changed positions a few times and seemed to be in no hurry. Then the female started to target a red deer bull. She crawled on her stomach closer and closer. The male followed about 30m behind her. She got closer and closer and when she had about 50m left to the red deer she got in to full attack. The male wolf followed and they both attacked the red deer bull. The deer defended himself really well with his big horns. He attacked the wolves so they had to back off a few times. The wolves continued their attack from two directions for a while, but then they gave up and lay down in the grass. After a while they tried again, but the deer still defended himself really well. He didn’t make the mistake to try and run. They gave up again and the walked away to the edge of the field and lay down just inside the forest. After about 20 minutes I heard a familiar sound. Wild boar heard was incoming…

Here my posted recording at soundcloud starts, since there was just breathing sounds and sounds when wolves and deer move in the grass previously, so not much to listen to.

Wolves' wild boar hunting (Canis lupus lupus)

I sort of look at this as a sequel to "In My Dreams" -not just because it also features a poem within a poem-, but because I feel like the theme is a progression from dreaming and reminiscing of the past, to living in the present. Enjoy!

- Written and performed by Igor Oro
Music Sample Credit: "Vladimir's Blues", composed by Max Richter

LYRICS
I loved the way the sun wrapped around you, like a dress woven from strands of light. 
I loved the way you stayed close to me, as we held hands walking the empty streets at night.
I loved the way your eyes glimmered with hope, like a diamond pulled from the earth and polished for the first time, or the way your smile could break through the eyes of the blind,
I loved your innocence, untainted by time and unbound by fate. I loved your curiosity, and how you were cautious enough to know what's at stake.

The only problem was, I was too used to heartbreak. I became best friends with disappointment and I lost my belief in fate. So familiar with bad timing, I was always at the wrong place, until I realized that I couldn't go on seeing you as just a friend; I got so good at telling lies that even I started to believe them.

So now I'm gonna put my heart on the line and speak from my soul to let you know that your touch...is really the only thing I can feel anymore. The glisten in your eyes, the only thing I can see anymore. I want to bring you close and whisper in your ear like lovers do, these soft spoken words weighed down heavy with truth:

"Because honestly, all I want to hold you as the sun goes down and not let go until it comes back up. I want to be that warm connection that you crave whenever you feel a certain touch, I want to be that rush of adrenaline that envelopes you as you get close enough to the climactic peak of a moment you've never felt before, that heavenly moment when you can't take it anymore, then i want to be the arms that you fall into as you slip into a peaceful sleep, relieved of all that tension; let your guard down, I'll be your wall of protection. I want to be the ship to steer you in the right direction, and if ever you should hit an iceberg and feel like you're about to drown, I'll be the cocoon of oxygen that surrounds you; breathe me into your dreams, i want to be the seams that bind all your emotions together, i want to be your fantasy, your idea of forever, i want to be the roof over your head to shelter you from the rough weather, I want to be the guy that sweeps you off your feet; I want to be the pair of eyes that you suddenly meet in a crowded place, i want to be the face of everything you've ever thought you didn't deserve, the voice of everything they said you couldn't achieve, because the truth is... you can be anything you dare to believe.

But most importantly, I want you to know that even though this love of ours might not have lasted, I would still walk with you to the end of the world...and then past it."

<a href='https://theartistunion.com/tracks/20a16b'>Download for free on The Artist Union</a>

"Like Lovers Do" - A Spoken Word Poem

Recorded on November 29, 2016, for Poem-a-Day, a series produced by the Academy of American Poets. www.poets.org

Ada Limón: "Notes on the Below"

Are you feeling the Bern, but have to vote for Hillary. If you've got the swing state blues, listen to this.

SwingStateBlues

Once You Frack….
By Corie Feiner


Old MacDonald had a farm - 

I didn’t expect the water from my faucet to ignite 
like a slight of hand sold to me from the tongue-toothed man 

with a suit and a tie and a crooked lie about how a simple
one-two frack could save our farm and give us back 
what was lost like a stray cow on pasture. 

E-i-e-i-o - 

When they said it was like a well, 
they didn’t tell me about the dead cow smell
that would overtake our land instead of clover. 

I wish this was over, but once you frack 
you cannot go back to unbroken land, 
undo the sand that was pumped into 
the skin of my great-grandfather’s earth. 

And on the farm he had a cow - 

And I want you to think next time you drink your water 
that it might be your daughter next to rash red
and to die before she is dead 
with the benzene that was left behind. 

It was our choice to frack, but like Saul Williams said, 
Sh-clack-clack. There are more ways than one to become 
a slave by the way we behave, living our lives in a polluted grave.  

And I’m not sure who to blame in this game of drill,
pump, water, sand, gas, leave, Uncle Tom, Uncle Sam, Uncle Steve – I can’t breathe,
the stink coming from my sink is like a methane bomb. 

Was I wrong to say yes? He said it would do no harm.
It would pay for my struggling farm – 

the cows, the house, the pasture, but when I saw the water trucks coming fast, sure, 
I panicked like the gas flare fire, who is the liar? 
 
Me? Or them? Or is it you? 

With a moo, moo here,
and a moo, moo there…

An earthquake in Oklahoma makes as much sense as a newborn with sarcoma – 
a cancer that appears out of nowhere like magic, but it’s not.  
It’s tragic, because we gave it to ourselves. 

Earths mantle and core are skin and bone, and water and shale and stone. 
And don’t you know, nothing on this planet lives alone. 

Here a moo, there a moo
Everywhere a moo, moo. 

If you break and poison and pump and leave 
the only think left to do is bleed. 

Believe me, I didn’t expect my water to ignite, my cows to die, my earth to shake
and shake and shake. Man, it was a mistake. 

Old MacDonald had a farm - 

It is too late to undo what was done, 
but its not too late to turn to the sun, 
to forgive us for our sins and remember
the answer is still actually blowin’ in the wind. 

E-i-e-i-o.


 
 


Once You Frack...

From Plymouth Rock to Standing Rock
By Corie Feiner


Every day is a day of thanks, bend 
and whisper to the orange fleshed squash, 
Welcome, like the Wampanoag welcomed 
us to Plymouth Rock and taught us
to harvest blueberries and beach plums, 
hunt for wild turkeys and geese, 
make nets out of woven reeds, 
and plant corn, squash, and beans
together and call them sister. 

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. 

I have boiled down the cranberries
into gel, I have ground the corn
between two sacred stones. 

I have lifted the fresh water
to my lips and chanted, 
Water is not a weapon. 

I have closed my bank account
and I have stood at the entrance 
to the Backwater Bridge,
and I have shaken the small pox
from the borrowed wool blanket,

and I have built a monument
in a mason jar,
and I have said enough to the dirt
that is starting to die,

and the river told me yesterday
that treaties are not made to be broken
and that the mountain that is filled with gold
belongs to no one, 

and that water is not made 
to purposely freeze our fingers
to the bone, and that pipes 
are made to be passed
in peace circles. 

What will happen if we stand long enough? 

The president has pardoned the turkey,
but not the Sioux. 
Reparations are long overdue. 
Standing Rock, I stand with you.

From Plymouth Rock to Standing Rock

This is another poem in my "Current Events as Poetry"  series. This is for the Veterans for Standing Rock. (The father in the poem is representative for all of our fathers.) 

Self-deployment
- By Corie Feiner


Yesterday, my father took a jitney cab to JFK 
and rummaged through the black garbage can
where he threw out his green air force uniform 
forty-seven years ago. 

It was ragged and full of gum and split, 
but it would have to do. 

He borrowed his diabetic brother’s leather boots, 
let the polish settle deep into the grain and said, 
This is worth standing for. 

And although I am no seamstress, 
I will sew him an upside down flag
to take with him on his 1,600 mile walk
from Brooklyn to Standing Rock.  

And if he, or any other self-deployed soldier, 
should pass my house, I will take him by his ungloved hand
to McConkey’s Inn and I will show him
where Washington penned his letter to say
that to cross the icy water in the dark 
was our only chance for freedom. 

I will pack for them a pouch of wool socks, 
salt fish, bread, and prayer to take with them 
on their walk.  Not for revolution. This time. 
But to interlock their arms around a drill pad, 
to protect the sacredness of fresh water, 
to protect us from ourselves. 


- Dedicated to Wes Clark, Jr., Michael Wood Junior, and the Veterans for Standing Rock



Corie Feiner is the 2011 Poet Laureate of Bucks County, and the author of Radishes into Roses and Who Was Born at Home? She is an award winning educator, performance poet, and slam champion with an MFA from NYU. She is dedicated to sustainable living, composing and performing her work for good causes, and to cultivating community. www.coriefeiner.com / info@coriefeiner.com.

Self - Deployment

Corie Feiner reads her poem "I Can't Tell You Why", inspired by the events of the Boston Marathon 2013. Corie Feiner is an award-winning poet/performer and the former Poet Laureate of Bucks County. www.CorieFeiner.com

Corie Feiner - "I Can't Tell You Why"

"wonderfully plain-spoken poetry and delivery" - The New York Times

Corie Feiner is the 2011 Poet Laureate of Bucks County, and the author of Radishes into Roses and Who Was Born at Home? She is an international performance poet and slam champion with an MFA from NYU. She loves local farms, cooking from scratch for her family, biking, and standing for what is right. www.coriefeiner.com / info@coriefeiner.com

SwingStateBlues

Corie Feiner

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