The below (ongoing) “HOOSIC RIVER” poem cycle is dedicated to the Hoosic River Watershed Association (hoorwa.org), a nonprofit citizen group that looks after the river. These sections were written while visiting various public-preserved locations within the boundaries of the watershed, places that reside in and around ancestral lands of Muhheaconneok and western Abenaki peoples. “North Corridor” was created in collaboration with percussionist, Daniel O’Connor, for the Hoosic River Watershed Association’s Music and Poetry Along the River. “East Corridor” and “South Corridor” were individually recorded and published with North Country Public Radio. The below sequence (and recording) of six poems was performed at Byte in Hoosick Falls (NY) on the 15th of September, 2023 as a poetry + percussion improvisation with Daniel O’Connor. Italicized lines from: Psalms, translated by Thomas Nelson (my change to human); In a Time of Violence by Eavan Boland. See also, “Dispatches from the Beyond Place: Tales of the Hoosic River” by Laura R. Stevens, with John Case & Wendy Hopkins, published by the Hoosic River Watershed Association.
David Crews
Shaftsbury, VT
2023
Hoosic River
North Corridor
Carry it
like the river, she says
I leave the back door
walk up the rise
farmfield’s west end
close the gate
follow the coyote’s path
into the woods
to the pine grove
where huge White pines
loom
into a canopy
not the first pines
Just beyond
a slow descent
to a mountain stream
its flute, cross it
rocks piled
and scattered
slate, schist
into a mountain
into tuffs of peat moss
broom and log moss
rock draped, fern
covered, fallen trees
At the summit
of West mountain
2401 feet
above the level of the sea
just south of Spruce peak
Grass mountain
the northern Taconics
what
some say
the Vermont valley
here, the watershed’s
ecotone
a turn
from the compass rose
I open the map
to feel its textures
where contours
fall
in crevasse, moraine
to recall the power
of glacial striation
to know how mountains
are sculpted, formed
from rock and cavern
the water flows
springs in the forest
that rise through
limestoned earth
here, land
of Chestnut-sided warblers
and no more chestnuts
I am a river
I once was a river
The rushing
of Little White creek
fades, comes closer
as I move toward
source, spring
the water flowing
over the falls
on beds of moss
deepened stones, soaks
into and down
the creek perhaps little
it will grow
increasing
the more it falls away
the more it fills
on its way to the sea
Some of the forest
has been logged
most of it
these trees
not old growth
who has touched
more of the land
we, or the river
and do the redstarts
know, do the ovenbirds
know
will the forest
remain full
with the songs
of Black-throated
blues, greens
Winter wrens and vireos
the thrushes collecting
how many
are left
The river’s water
twists and turns
down farmfields
under roads
the feeding streams
given away
by meandering groves
of trees
collecting fertilizer
and feed
cow manure, pesticides
tractor oil and piss
pooling briefly
to descend
homemade rock
dams
as it drops
to the Walloomsac
where fly fishermen
scatter the slower waters
under
rusted out bridges
freight train crossings
recycling centers
waterwaste treatment plants
warehouses ruined
at Hoosick falls
the water flows north
past abandoned
factories
mills, ghost mills
lost concrete structures
along the river
before the last push
into the Hudson
Locals speak
of a spot
where
back in the 70s
the land was mined
for gravel
before protests
shut the company
down
Moses farm
it is now called
at the terminus
of the Owl kill
a place that sits near
the confluence
where rivers
gather
and stories say
once was an intertribal
meeting place
at the meeting
of the waters
Haudenosaunee
Abenaki
Muhheaconneok
Hoosic, beyond place
of stones
what does the river
know
Little White creek / 2023
East Corridor
Deep in the Glastenbury
wilderness
feeding streams
to the Walloomsac
network like veins
or synapse fire
from the source
the roots of great
Red oak
or what I imagine
them to be
my trust
only goes
to certain depths
the map tells me
an unidentified bird
song throws tight
little spirals
into the far reaches
of hemlock forest
more a product
of an ecosystem
than a poem
so close to the edge
of truth
and beauty
and to move north
alongside the AT ridge
in late May
is to be
chasing warblers
at the tail end
of mud season, moss
season
I step from rock
to rock
a whisper in the woods
so light
streams flute away
to their
circadian rhythms
On the trail
to Bald mountain
a sitting rock
at the meeting point
of deciduous, conifer
forests
a meditation spot
on eco
tones and life
there, miles ago
when I truly felt alone
before this chorus
of rattle, scree and jive
sweet
sweet zoo
Blackburnian, Pine
Myrtle
the flies thick
and heavy in feel
they are dying
he once said to me
you know each year
there are fewer
and fewer
they don’t come back
here, at the highest point
around
is to visit too
with ravens
their calls
will alert bedrock
the West Ridge trail
to the firetower
on Glastenbury
chart the high elevations
that scape
the eastern boundary
of the watershed
and even
in late spring
it already feels dry
and these birds
these trees
what will happen
to the rivers
we know
Greylock from Bald mountain, Glastenbury wilderness / 2023
South Corridor
The Appalachian trail
logs over
fifteen hundred miles
from Springer mountain
northbound
till it finally crosses
the South branch
of the Hoosic
as the river leaves
source waters
of the Cheshire reservoir
in Berkshire county
Massachusetts
the footpath
meanders around
field and pasture
before climbing
the south shoulder
of Greylock
passing between
Cole mountain
Jones Nose
over Saddle Ball mountain
to a summit 3491 feet
above sea level
the highest point
in the state
Grey Lock
Wawanolewat
was a western Abenakis
warrior and chieftain
from the Woronoke band
of Westfield river
who fought
for the Missisquoi
Wabanaki coalition
and who led
resistance
against English armies
in the early
eighteenth century
conducting raids
on colonial settlements
from coastal Maine
along the Kennebec
throughout
the Connecticut
river valley
to lake Champlain
as quickly
he would descend
upon guard and fort
he and his war parties
mobile
and invisible
would again
disappear
into the vast wilderness
of Green
mountain forest
In 1722
governor Samuel Shute
declared war
on the Maine Abenakis
proclaiming
the confederates
were robbers, traitors
and enemies
to his majesty
king George
and for the next
five years
ignoring calls
and talks
for peace
from governors
in Albany
and New Hampshire
Grey Lock
continued a campaign
to liberate
Abenakis peoples
He was never
captured
or killed
and his peopl
were not liberated
but fled
like so many
to Canada
and Grey Lock
Wawanolewat
during the years
of peace that followed
fathered a daughter
and a son
and with his family
carried out his days
to an old age
in the mountainsand rivers
of his
ancestral lands
and what happened
to him
no one really knows
and to speak
of him
is to not let
his spirit rest
and to speak of him
an act of praise
praise the heart
and what
it carries
incessant longing
praise the river
take me
to the river
that falls
as water does
in time and rhythm
and what
of remembering
View east from Greylock summit
Corridor
I hear the words
over
and over again
Blessed is the human
whose strength
is in you, whose heart
is set
on pilgrimage
I will
bear myself fully
to each new moment
without regret
or hesitation
(this
is a lie)
the river keeps time
as it moves
into space
the water
a mirror
the violence
always downstream
how does the river
talk
what to say
will it always be
the deep song
of pain
weeping, my friend
says
Is it only love
that makes
a place
how does one carry
these depths
small calls
of birds
on the ridge
the river carries
all of it
will I
find myself
able to love
the way a river
moves
between flute
and tense abandon
to be water
flowing over rock
through earth
to be water
and not dream
of death
species lost
thrushes, ash
trees
to not live a life
in constant danger
wildfire, flood
riot
gun
Hoosic river and Bald mountain
Central Corridor, East
Again,
I have found
the Appalachian trail
up Sherman
brook
the water falls
over great rocks
drops
and turns
and falls
old footpaths
preserve vibrant
ecosystems
tall trees
forever
green, a high
thick canopy
ferns ferns
ferns
what does it all
mean
lone traveler
and your
ten thousand questions
3.8 miles
through mud
and hemlock
around glacial erratics
to East mountain
the Vermont border
2340 feet
above the level
of the sea
when I walk
this trail
I long to journey
and never do
Up Sherman brook on the AT / 2023
Central Corridor, West
Southbound
from the northern
terminus
of the Taconic Crest
trail
a hard climb
from route 346
where the Hoosic
snakes a way
through range
and quarry
past state lines
how water
needs never
to think
like this
what will
become of me
whom, of those
I love
will die
Good thing
my pack’s full
for this side
of the solstice
high on the ridge
one finds
little water, alert
air quality again
not good
and far
from the road
the birds know
nothing
of distant wildfires
in Canada
the jet stream
filtering through
songs full of life
an aliveness
all around me
and the river
a quiet funnel
continually rolling
over itself
from source
to mouth
as it collects
gathers
swells
the veery knows rain
song like
water draining
deep in the woods
in the music
I hear a longing
that makes me feel
these walking rhythms
my feet again
under me
I imagine
the dripping canopy
soaked duff
leaf litter
the ferns heavy
if the warblers
would have me
Taconic Crest trail / 2023