Sea Ranch: a collection of poems

The Catlin Gabel School Senior Poetry Writing class final projects.

2022 CGS Senior Poetry Chapbooks

Images: Cover:&nbsp; ROAM. “Sea Ranch Arch Vista Feature .” Roam Family Travel, <a href="https://roamfamilytravel.com/california-family-vacation-ideas-outdoor-acive-kids/sea-ranch-arch-vista-feature/">https://roamfamilytravel.com/california-family-vacation-ideas-outdoor-acive-kids/sea-ranch-arch-vista-feature/</a> Accessed 26 Apr. 2022.&nbsp;&nbsp; Inside cover:&nbsp; Foote, Hillary. “Sunlit Oregon Forest (with Logging).” Department of Land Conservation and Development , Oregon.gov, <a href="https://www.oregon.gov/lcd/FF/Pages/Forestland-Protection.aspx">https://www.oregon.gov/lcd/FF/Pages/Forestland-Protection.aspx</a>&nbsp;Accessed 26 Apr. 2022.&nbsp; Adjacent to Land of the Free, home of the trapped: Spasojevic, Zoran. “Prison Bars.” Toonpool, 12 Apr. 2012, <a href="https://www.toonpool.com/cartoons/Prison%20bars_165661">https://www.toonpool.com/cartoons/Prison%20bars_165661</a> Accessed 26 Apr. 2022.

This chapbook is dedicated to my family and friends. Thank you for always reminding me about what important things in life are. 

About Growing (in Resilience)&nbsp; Every Oregonian has seen these strong trees. Sixty-five native species with ancient names like douglas fir. Together they form something majestic--the forest floor, a base camp of curiosity.&nbsp; The ecosystem doesn't crumble completely when something goes awry, it is resilient--&nbsp; building back what has been lost.&nbsp; (Other things like survivors work that way, too--&nbsp; find resilience in the loss, the darkness.) The forest takes up almost half of the land in Oregon. Maybe we should give more thanks to forests, and to all those&nbsp; ancient but supreme ecosystems in the word-- adventures,&nbsp; the forgotten allure of the forest.

Sea Ranch&nbsp; wind, water, and waves, crash into the sizeable panes of glass, the age-old dryer clanks in an aggravated argument its shakes and shivers&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;—rumble— throughout the structure the storm passes and the quiet mumbling of hot tub bubbles emerges, the leather blanketing the humble couches engulfs me, once stiff aces through kings shuffle, and&nbsp; elderly puzzle boxes slide shut&nbsp; with a hisssss creme brulee-like succulents crunch and then soften under my shabby sneakers. the wind whistles upwards off of the bluff. uncut, gravelly sand pours gently out of my hand and collides with different versions of itself in a monotonal,&nbsp; crashing, sound dew slides slinkily off of the virgin grass&nbsp; a cool breeze rustles the reeds chewed by the moles who scurry under the path

Land of the Free, home of the trapped We laugh and then cry The “grown up” world to big to for us to understand, argumentative clouds constantly stirring in the sky above.&nbsp; Eternally trapped in the ancient memory of our land&nbsp; Hoping— to make any changes thereof&nbsp; Argumentative clouds constantly stirring in the sky above,&nbsp; hoping, praying that we can make some kind of difference&nbsp; Hoping— to make any changes thereof&nbsp; Each headline trigger emotions contradictory of a kiss&nbsp; Hoping, praying that we can make some kind of difference, we try our best to not let our glint of hope die.&nbsp; Each headline sparks the emotions contradictory of a kiss.&nbsp; We laugh and then cry.&nbsp;

Sea Ranch: a collection of poems&nbsp;

Table of Contents:&nbsp; Title page&nbsp; Table of contents Dedication About Growing (In Resilience)&nbsp; Sea Ranch Late July BBQ Classic Range Rover Land of the Free, home of the trapped

Late July BBQ Rich smoke fills the air, the smell of meat cooked&nbsp; slightly past done engulfs me in its thick embrace.&nbsp; I stare at the plate of sausages waiting, patiently,&nbsp; until my uncle determines they have rested&nbsp; enough.&nbsp; I never understood why they needed to rest,&nbsp; can't we just eat them now?&nbsp; why wait?&nbsp; The obligatory zucchini thinly sliced and&nbsp; cooked until sultry,&nbsp; a little olive oil, salt, pepper,&nbsp; “that's all you need” i hear my dad say.&nbsp; I disagree. it's a little boring, it’s the same thing we eat every summer.&nbsp; It's boring but, it’s memories, the memories aren't boring. Uncle Perry’s looming german shepard gnaws&nbsp; at a 2x4, the closest thing she has to a toy.&nbsp; I bring out our largest metal bowl&nbsp; filled with as much water as it, and I, can carry.&nbsp; Her chain-like collar stands out from her black coat like the last popsicle in the freezer.&nbsp; Finally, time for dessert,&nbsp; cousin's homemade ice cream&nbsp; and uncle's pie.&nbsp; I don't like pie.&nbsp; But I'll eat the whole tupperware of ice cream,&nbsp; it is cloudy and scratched&nbsp; after years of duck confit, yogurt,&nbsp; and that scrumptious&nbsp; ice cream.&nbsp;

Classic Range Rover Metallic forest green, maybe a light cream, or even, a soft caffeine to coat the smooth metal shell, durable yet delicate&nbsp; like a gladiolus flower handed to ancient roman warriors as a symbol of— their strength.&nbsp; The signature antagonistic hood and aggressively slanted back windshield create a surprisingly alluring combination. A feat of industrial prowess.&nbsp; There is a surprising elegance that can be found in the rugged wheels and wrap. Flooded with light colored leather. The slightly overwhelming but comforting smell of this tan hide which is reflecting the light which streams endlessly through the walls of windows which&nbsp; beg,— beg, to be dissolved&nbsp; and have the breeze dash through them.&nbsp; luxury&nbsp; and&nbsp; Ruggedness. perfect for&nbsp; a p.m. picnic.

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