Leanne McIntosh: Ecofantasy of Memory

squareknot01Earth, sole witness to our entire history, remembers everything in ways we cannot fully appreciate. The Celts considered trees as sacred entities, recognizing them as repositories of memory, lore and spirit-beings. The memory of all species is necessary to recall, to revive all that is lost.

I reflected on these things when my long-time friend, Jack, was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. I took up his forgetting as an invitation from Earth into my own forgetting and began to write a Japanese form of poetry called haibun, which is a combination of prose and haiku poetry.

In these poems, excerpted from winter heart, the prose expresses my observations of a person with Alzheimer’s disease, followed by a pause before imagination leaps across the white space to the haiku, creating and exposing the disarray in the structure and functioning of the planet.


winter heart

Diagnosis and a scream gathers then flings itself into the public sphere. Fear runs through cobbled streets. There is no signpost for belief because without being told I know the future.

nothing foreseen
but the glacier dead ahead

Shadows refuse to leave. Questions repeat. Post-it notes instruct the china cupboard. Another man’s shoes worn home seek privacy in a dresser drawer. I have no plan for a riddled memory and the last syllables, closest to the heart, are difficult to speak.

axe and saw
what do we tell the trees
before we cut them

Each time we meet it’s as though I’ve travelled a great distance and my arrival is a surprise, a treat, a joyful event. Some days my presence is a gift. Why would I want to be anywhere else?

follow sea turtle hatchlings
cycle renewed

He regularly misreads the time, but it’s spring and the country has adjusted its clocks so taking his arm I move his wristwatch forward.

vanishing frogs
no sound in the pond—
never too late

He’s happy to see me, gives me a book, the newspaper, pictures from his pocket. We go to his room and he shows me the lamp he thinks he designed and turns the switch the way a village lights porch lamps to guide fishermen lost at sea.

on the backs of salmon
an oilfield burning

Thirty years rush through my mind. Memories crowd blood rafters pressed against the forehead. A madness the heart clutches. The whole world a diminished dream and I wonder why the earth isn’t covered with tears.

along mountain roads
on Vancouver Island not
one wolverine left


Leanne McIntosh lives in Nanaimo, British Columbia. Her newest work, Dark Matter, is available from Leaf Press. Earlier books include Liminal Space (2003), and The Sound the Sun Makes (2004).

Arbutus menziesii in winter
Also known as Madrone, the Arbutus loses its leaves and the bark peels in summer. In winter the leaves are dark green lit with rain and the peeled portions of the tree brighten the grey skies.

Guest Posts Welcome!

Feather Please share your visions, musings, observations, prose, poetry…together we envision the Earth to come– remembering what was, acknowledging the moment that is…

Please contact me at kyanitequeen@gmail.com

What’s a Corvus?


The short answer: crows and ravens are members of the genus Corvus.

Bird people refer to them as corvids, because they belong to the family Corvidae, as do magpies, jays, rooks, nutcrackers, jackdaws and a few others.

Of the corvids, only crows and ravens roost under the genus Corvus. Many species of crows and ravens fly the blue skies of Earth, but in the U.S., it’s all about the American Crow (Corvus brachyrhynchos) and the Common Ravens (Corvus corax).

Raven or Crow?

Though they look a lot alike, crows and ravens are not of the same species, therefore they don’t mate.

Generally ravens are bigger than crows, but unless they’re hanging out together, which they do sometimes, it’s hard to tell them apart by size. Their beaks and tails are distinctive. Raven beaks are thicker and curvier than crow beaks, and their tails are wedge-shaped, as opposed to a more ‘blunt cut’ of the crow tail.


Corvid Speech

Raven speech sounds different than crow speech. I prefer ‘speech’ to ‘calls’, because I believe they are conversing, though we don’t hear most of what they’re saying. So does Michael Westerfield, by the way, noted corvid researcher and author of Language of Crows.

Raven speech sounds more like a croaking trill. (http://www.shades-of-night.com/aviary/sounds/raven1.wav)


AmericanCrowCrow speech to us sounds like a series of ‘caw’ sounds. (http://www.shades-of-night.com/aviary/sounds/crow2.wav)
(Corvus brachyrhynchos)

We Go Way Back…

Corvus is one of the oldest constellations in human history and resides within a group of constellations, the Crater, Hydra, and Sextans. In the Greek myth, Apollo flung the disobedient Corvus into the night sky in a fit of rage, where the thirsty Corvus gazed forever at the Crater–a two-handled cup full of water, guarded by the water snake Hydra. (Sextans is not part of this myth). (http://ow.ly/mBwtb)


The elements of the story have become obscure, but the age of the story–Aesop told it–illustrates the antiquity of the Human/Corvus relationship. Revered and reviled by gods and mortals, we are not the boss of them.