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this is the first installment of a series of installments comprising michael ceraolo's Euclid Creek book.


Prologue

It is not an epic waterway
christened with a catchy nickname
and celebrated in song and story,
at least until now,
though it is eminently deserving
of being immortalized as such;
in fact it has heretofore been
derided with the diminutive creek,
deemed unworthy of the designation river,
even denied depiction on most maps
And probably not even
a majority of the residents
of the surrounding area
know where the waterway begins
or could place it accurately;
                                              or
if they could place it,
know much of its life or history
Until now


Part One

I
The Birth of the Land

The land around Euclid Creek was born
about one-point-one billion years ago;
                                                               born
sometime shortly after six o'clock in the evening
in the day-long life of the earth;
                                                    or, born
in the most recent hour-and-a-half or so
in the day-long life of the universe,
depending on which timepiece one chooses to use;
born in a collision
between what then constituted all
of the continent we now call
North America
and another unknown continent
which has since broken away;
the kind of collision that has often occurred
as the continents skate across the globe;
a collision, though, that occurred over millions of years
as the continents don't skate very fast;
a collision that caused a mountain-building episode
that heaved up Himalaya-like hills
which then eroded over time to today's lowlands
only several hundred feet above sea level,
land that I survey today


The land that I survey today
is about half-way along the way
of the creek's winding journey
to its destiny in the inland sea,
a journey that is about five miles as the crow flies,
perhaps twice that distance as the creek flows
from its source in the tony suburbs
to the east of the central city,


encased and entombed in concrete culverts
for a part of its journey,
flowing openly through a posh country club,
here in the park creating a waterfall

I don't see a man in the waterfall,
as Dr. Williams did at Paterson,
but I do see human hubris on view
as I listen to the roar at the base of the falls,
at the top of the canyon houses are perched precariously
on what was surely solid ground when they were built,
for much of the surrounding area is built on a rock quarry,
covered only by a thin skin of clayey soil,
that had to be blasted through with dynamite
in order to install the storm sewers

Because bedrock is indeed
the dominant feature around the creek,
                                                                for you can see
where chunks were carved out of the cliffs,
creating caves sometimes inhabited
by those with nowhere else to go
(It wasn't always thus though
Earlier natives of the area
inhabited the caves
by quite conscious choice,
using them as a winter quarters,
climbing
                down
                           with deer and elk
                                                        hunted in the summer,
celebrating their good fortune
with rituals now doubly lost,
the chants, poems, and tales now lost,
the languages themselves
that such magic was created in
now lost,
                as lost
as those earlier natives are
I hope this poem can capture
a fraction of that lost magic)

Massive slabs of stone not used for sidewalks


have fallen across the creek,
almost damming its flow
And scattered stones in miscellaneous sizes
are arranged in haphazard rows
in a kind of outdoor amphitheater
home to no shows
And the bedrock not carved by man,
witness to ancient eras of history
sculpted into hard canyon walls and etched with lines of nature's graffiti,
is washed by the trickling brook slowly
away

________________________________________________________________________



II

The Birth of Euclid Creek


             But water
and its relatives
                           have not always
                                                      been quite so meek
Many times in the past
the army of ice advanced southward
                                                           from the polar ice cap,

                 conquering
and laying waste to everything in its path
over the course
                          of tens of thousands
                                                            of years,
interspersed
with short periods of strategic retreat
when confronted with climatic opposition,
the retreats
                   then followed
                                           by further advances
that extended the ice empire's dominion
over a large part
                           of the planet,
ruling far greater areas
                                      for a far longer time
than any human empire could ever hope to rule,

ruling
without opposition

                                   The last,
                                                  or just the most recent,
invasion
reached the area around Euclid Creek
about 25,000 years ago,
                                        and continued southward,
occupying its maximum territory
about 18,000 years ago



                                         Over the next
5,000 years or so
                              the ice retreated
as far back as this area,
                                      though of course
                                                                   the retreat

was not smooth
and was accompanied by intermittent advances
And the last advances and retreats
were spectacular in their sculpture,
creating the gray Great Lake
into which Euclid Creek empties,
and all of the sister Great Lakes,
and the magnificence known as Niagara Falls,
and Euclid Creek itself


III

The Uneasy Co-Existence

The four-, six-, and eight-legged crawling and flying people
and the finned and flippered swimming people
greatly outnumber and outvote me
here as they do everywhere
But theirs is no tyranny of the majority,
for they are respectful of minority rights
And it would surely be a sacrilege
for a non-oppressed minority
to attempt a coup by trying to impose
the doctrine of might makes right
And so they and I have entered
into a non-aggression pact
But outside the park there remains
the uneasy co-existence with the two-legged people:

the crows,
with the ancestral memories of the forest
encoded in their genes,
                                      waiting by the side of the freeway
for the rush hours to end
so that they can feast on the squirrel
                                                           who played chicken
with the cars
and lost;

                 and the groundhog,
celebrated one day of the year,
ignored or reviled the rest of the year,
lying squashed
                          at the edge of the road;

                                                                 and a rabbit,
who has escaped from that green cage we call a park
and wandered into someone's backyard,
where it sits sucking nourishment
through the stem of a dandelion


as though sipping through a straw,
thankful that no one has put poison on the plant;

and a different rabbit,

or maybe the same one,
hopping frenetically,
with only its tail visible
as the swirling late-season snow
falls to its doom,
giving the illusion of a moving snowball
as it struggles to find food;

                                             and a raccoon,
poisoned
for having the audacity
to eat what the humans
didn't even want any more;

and bees and wasps and hornets,
exterminated
for attacking those
who tried to destroy their homes;

the robin
                lying belly up
                                       in the driveway,
having sampled
                           the seed stuck
                                                   in the spilled oil;

and another bird,
despondent over the destruction of its home
in the name of development,
committing suicide by a kamikaze dive
into the grille of a moving car;

                                                   and the homeless skunk,
driven into the diurnal world
by the breaking of its biological clock,
wandering with the eyes of an unmedicated schizophrenic,
finally lying down,
                                seizing,
                                             and dying;  ~



                                                               and the deer,
who refused to keep their population
at near-extinction levels,
who refused to remain contained on the reservation
to which they had been consigned,
who refused to refrain from eating grass and shrubs
and hence blasphemed the ideal
of human property values,
and were thus sentenced to be executed,
several hundred strong,
although the execution was given
a nicer-sounding scientific name

                                                        Nothing new here,
                                                        unfortunately,
for this is one of those times where the events
don't read any better now as history
than they did at the time as news,
if indeed they were even notice as news
It was just
                  a  century or so ago
that the last of the passenger pigeons
was killed
                   And just
                                  a century or so
                                                           before that
that elk and bear and wild turkey and other animals
were hunted almost to extinction
by the first white settlers in the area,
the animals having re-colonized the area
after being driven away and overhunted
by the earlier natives
                                     And so it goes
in boom-and-bust cycles back to the days
of the final retreat of the ice sheet,
where some animals followed the tundra
as it moved away from the area,
and those grizzly bears
                                      and caribou
                                                           and bison
and some species of musk ox
                                                 and voles
and a couple of kinds of lemmings



saved themselves by moving away,
for they still live today,
although not in the Euclid Creek area
                                                               But other animals
were not so lucky
                              Peccaries
and beavers the size of bears
and the ferocious carnivorous short-faced bear
and a species of moose
                                      and a species of deer
                                                                         and a
species of musk ox
now exist only in the imagination,
                                                        as do
the wooly mammoth
                                  and the Jefferson mammoth

and the mastodon,
all done in
                   by the sinister synergy
                                                         of changing climate
and the appearance of fierce hunters,
the first humans to see Euclid Creek---




IV
The Autochthonic Americans


      There is still some debate

      about the debut

      of humans in this hemisphere

      Conventional wisdom

      postulates a late arrival

      conforming to a single

      migratory pattern

      across a specific route

      at a specific time

      Unconventional wisdom

      showing diversity

      is treated,

      no matter how compelling

      the evidence,



as coming
out of
left field,



                              and dissent in scientific matters
                              is sometimes punished as harshly
                              as dissent in political matters

                              But there is little debate
                              about when humans first came
                              to Euclid Creek,
                              humans who belonged
                              to the same race as us,
                              the only race,
                              the human race
~



They came at the time of the final retreat of the ice sheet,
around the time of the mass extinctions

They left posterity no written record,
and so have been scorned as uncivilized,
slandered as savages,
though they were neither

They had their own creation myths
and epic poems songs and stories
in oral traditions in now-lost languages

They had their own religious rituals,
celebrating the hunt and later the harvest,
celebrating love,
celebrating birth,
recognizing death,
rituals and beliefs now lost

They had their own forms of social and political organization,
some more egalitarian and enlightened
than anything extant today

They had their own modes of dress,
which differed from European fashion
and so incurred the wrath of those
who would make a moral issue
out of a matter of style

They were as subject to the vagaries of the weather
as those who live in the area today,
surviving the cold climate they first encountered,
adapting to the gradually-increasing warmth,
prospering through the climatic optimum
which occurred from five to three thousand years ago
and provided plentiful hunting and fishing
and ample gathering opportunities,
suffering through summers of drought
and weathering the worst of winters
in similar seasonal variations as today,
rejoicing in the Little Climatic Optimum
that began a thousand or so years ago
and lasted for a few hundred years,



persevering through the more extreme deviations
such as the dust-bowl like conditions
that lasted from the mid-1200s
until the middle of the next century
and the Little Ice Age that began
a century after that
and lasted past contact

Their housing developed from caves
to temporary single-family dwellings
to more permanent multi-family longhouses,
as conditions created the necessity for change

They developed tools out of the available materials,
tools that grew more sophisticated
as circumstances demanded

They developed art of the type
frequently dismissed as crafts

They developed trade networks and a more complex economy,
switching to more of an agricultural society
as population density dictated

Their cultures and traditions
had periods of great influence
followed by periods of decline
and succeeded in turn by other cultures and traditions,
the same as all other civilizations,
all of which must have been unknown
when I took Ohio history in school
in the nineteen sixties and seventies,
for I was never taught
about any of it

They had friends and enemies
among the neighboring nations,
and those designations changed sometimes
like all other human societies

Their cultures and traditions were labeled,
not with their own names,
but with the names of, first, the Europeans,



and, later, the newer Americans,
who dug deep into the earth to discover them,
and were celebrated as archeologists
rather than reviled as graverobbers

They lived millennia of ordinary extraordinary human lives,
and then they disappeared from this area around 1640,
the result of a second sinister synergy
between historic enemies from the east
and the cumulative effects of the Little Ice Age
and advance armies of European germs,
and didn't appear again in the area,
at least on a permanent basis,
for about a hundred years




________________________________________________________________________




V
The Reading Room

Here,
in the reading room
of God's library,
the books are made of rock,
and the volumes are stacked
                                                 one
                                                 on
                                                 top
                                                 of
                                                 the
                                                 other,
with the oldest being on the bottom
Reminiscent of pre-printing press days
each volume is painstakingly produced
over a period
                       of many millions
                                                    of years
The history of life is written in these rocks,
written of course not by humans,
(we have already seen
the small scratchings
humans put there)
but by the forces that formed fossils;
                                                             this history
is written in
a language that I don't understand,
a language that few humans understand,
a language that was exceedingly
difficult to decipher
But some have deciphered that language,
and this is the tale those translators tell:

Life arrived
                    with the birth of the land



                                                               around Euclid Creek,
mostly single-celled life
that sometimes collected
into cities
of unimaginable population,
                                              life
                                                     that reproduced itself
by simple
                 div
                           ision,
                                     staying relatively simple
for about half the time life has been lived
around Euclid Creek
                                   And then
                                                   came a Great Mystery
In the latest few hours of the earth,
                                                         life,
which had only recently learned
to reproduce itself sexually,
suddenly,
so to speak,
became multicellular and then
exploded in complexity,
developing soft skeletons and shells in response
to some sort of change in the seas
in which all life then lived,
seas that surrounded the land
around Euclid Creek,
                                   land
that was then in the southern tropics

As the land around Euclid Creek
remained in the southern tropics,
though skating slowly to the west,
                                                        life
developed a backbone,
                                      for the first fish formed

And so
over many many millions of years
fish continued to develop,
                                           giving rise
to what has been called the Age of Fishes
These rulers of the seas

were no mythical monsters of Lake Erie,
as sometimes have supposedly been sighted
near here in recent times,
but real-life ones,
ones that would be terrifying
if they were still extant today,
ones that would make today's sea creatures
seem like house fish
                                   Spectacular specimens
of some of these fish
have been preserved in books
that have come to be known as the Cleveland shales,
books excavated in the nineteen sixties
when the highways were being built

The seas that covered the land
eventually receded for good,
at least so far,
and the salty remnants left behind
are still being mined-


Today on one of the ancient beach ridges of a bygone sea,
a giant mountain of salt sits unused outside the salt mines,
the result of the failure of capitalism to produce a severe enough winter,
while across the street is one of the educational salt mines
named, in a paroxysm of parochial pride over politics,
for a Socialist, albeit a safely dead one-


After a hundred million years or so
came the first pioneers,
those so equipped to be able to
step onto land and survive,
and eventually thrive

The land around Euclid Creek
continued its skate across the globe,
remaining in the southern tropics
for eons named, in the imperialistic manner,
for places in Europe where fossils
from a particular period were first found,
as though those were the only places



where those events occurred!


!    !    !    !    !    !    !    !    !    !    !    !    !    !    !    !    !    !    !    !    !    !    !    !    !    !     !
website designed 2002, kathy walker. poetry is reprinted with permission of the listed poets, who retain all rights. thanks to sivasys for providing this space.