Tag Archives: r-poetry

A brief history of Hoquiam and Aberdeen

I was looking back and decided that It would be beneficial to post a short history of industry in Hoquiam and Aberdeen, with links to more in depth histories at the bottom so as to better understand some of the confines by which my poetry was crafted.

Hoquiam and Aberdeen are two small towns located in Grays Harbor County, WA. The predominant industry of the area has been that of Timber. As of recent years, with new forestry laws, the logging industry has suffered a massive decline in the area. With the closing of Weyerhaeuser (the most prominent lumber mill in the area) the over all prosperity of the area headed for a steep decline as unemployment rates on the harbor soared. Though this was not the first bust within the last decade or so. Lamb industries had closed it’s door just a few years before Weyerhaeuser, leaving a lot of machinists and other such laborers to be without job. Some found a temporary home at Weyerhaeuser, just to end up in the same predicament all over again. A few years after Weyerhaeuser closed, the paper mill eventually followed, leaving many more with out jobs. It has only been in the past two years that select parts of Weyerhaeuser and the Grays Harbor Paper Mill have been re-opened, but the damage to the area is already done. The jobless rate is sky high, and many people have long since left the area. It has pretty much become that those too poor to leave and those lucky enough to have a job that are left. Not many people actively choose to move here due to the lack of financial security that the harbor offers. It’s sad really, the area has so much potential.

I hope this helps a bit.

YouTube Preview Image

Links

photos from the slideshow pt1

Photos from the slideshow pt2

History of Hoquiam

History of Aberdeen

Weyerhaeuser Closes

More about Grays Harbor

 

Little Nowhere

Little Nowhere

Some times there is a hope in the rot,
Sometimes the roach is just another sign that we’re alive,
The frailty of ruined frames draw power
from ones own insecurities,
Shove it away,
Shove it away,
What makes them live?

Downward glances,
and unstable footing,
they reflect the instability of structure,
the town is lost in their eyes,
Why can’t they see through mine?
They could always just take them.
It’s not a lost cause!
It just can’t be,
as those in the bar proclaim
after being laid off yet again.

 

White-Walls Tale

I  walk beneath the halls of old
and in due time I felt as though
the world above was as below,
yet I could not see the truth be told
past all the gloom and all the mold.
She is a vision from a long time ago,
all fairy dust and sunset glow,
yet she is not worth her weight in gold.

She is goddess broken,
earthen vessel cracked and torn,
a ship wrecked upon the shore,
stone heart delicate and soft spoken,
her face and eyes well worn
her dreams diminish into folklore.

La Vogue’s

You’ve come a long way
from the pet roaches behind the table
there in back, where they hissed in their tank
and the scent of damp wood clung to our nostrils.

You’ve come a long way
from gigs that brought the ceiling down
on  70’s garb and silly teenagers
experiencing a music “scene” for the first time.

There are no more flannel shirts, or western boots
or kindly old men talking through mush-mouthed words
that only our father seemed to understand. Those days
are gone much like our childhood,

yet still…..

you’ve come a long way and at least you’re still standing.
They won’t kill you off like your neighbor who burnt down behind your eyes.
No,You’re made of tougher things then that, and
you have a way about you that charms,
rather than repels.

You’ve dressed in new attire now,

The old memories are here,
your bones are still yours,
though you seem to have a new addiction,
to caffeine and the bean.

Heart of Decay

These streets are narrow leading

me on to the gates of heaven or hell,

(It is what you make of it)

and decasia slips through

the floor boards, trickling onto

my toes and pouring into the

hole within my heart.

 

“Creee-eee-k”, the doors swing wide,

I stumble in the darkness feeling round

for the familiarity of wooden panel or

switch,

…..useless.

My senses refocus, and sihloets begin

to appear in the night only to be whisked

away from me by the harsh glare of

the flashlight coming to life for the

flicker of an instant, only to be snuffed

out like the flames it impersonates.

Drift on in this mildewed dream,

and try telling me that there is any

other way of being as natual

as the fall from grace, and the

return to nature.