Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Gary Snyder’s "Logging: 4" blends ecological awareness, historical depth, and Zen-inflected poetics to explore the intersection of human labor, natural cycles, and cultural memory. The poem juxtaposes different temporal and spatial scales, moving from the immediate and physical—trees being felled and processed—toward a more mythic, transhistorical vision where human action merges with natural rhythms.

The opening lines, "Pines, under pines, / Seami Motokiyo", set up a layered perspective. Seami (or Zeami) Motokiyo was a 14th-century Japanese Noh dramatist, known for his aesthetic philosophy of yūgen—a deep, mysterious beauty often linked to nature and transience. By invoking Seami, Snyder suggests that logging, like Noh theater, follows a ritualistic pattern, an act of both destruction and creation.

The following lines, "The Doer stamps his foot. / A thousand board-feet / Bucked, skidded, loaded", abruptly shift from poetic reflection to the industrial reality of logging. The Doer, likely a logger, performs his work with force and finality, akin to the stamping foot of a Noh actor marking the beginning of a scene. The industry’s mechanical language—bucked, skidded, loaded—conveys efficiency and inevitability, reducing trees to mere timber.

This timber’s destination is evoked in "(Takasago, Ise) float in a mill pond". Takasago and Ise are deeply significant in Japanese culture—Takasago is a classical Noh play about an ancient pine tree representing longevity, while Ise is home to Japan’s most sacred Shinto shrine. By placing these revered locations in the context of logging, Snyder highlights a paradox: trees, often symbols of endurance and spiritual significance, are also commodities, floating in a mill pond awaiting processing.

Yet, against this backdrop of industrial extraction, Snyder weaves in a deeper time scale: "A thousand years dancing / Flies in the saw kerf." Here, flies—perhaps sawdust or literal insects—swarm within the saw kerf, the groove left by a saw blade. This phrase suggests that time itself is embedded in these trees, their long lives reduced to a fleeting moment of cutting. The trees, with their centuries of growth, are quickly severed, their histories lost in the machinery’s movement.

The imagery then shifts dramatically to Tomales Bay, a coastal region in California: "Cliff by Tomales Bay / Seal’s slick head / head shoulders breasts glowing in night saltwater." The sensual, almost humanized description of the seal dissolving into night saltwater contrasts with the harshness of logging, suggesting an alternative form of existence—one that is fluid, adaptive, and continuous rather than abrupt and extractive.

Snyder then layers in another set of movements: "Skitter of fish, and above, behind the pines, / Bear grunts, stalking the Pole-star." The scene expands into a cosmic alignment, with the bear—a primal, totemic presence—navigating by the Pole-star, the fixed celestial point in the night sky. This alignment of animal movement with celestial navigation reinforces a natural order far removed from human economic activity.

The next set of images returns to the theme of labor and impact: "Foot-whack on polished boards / Slide and stop; drum-thump." These rhythmic sounds echo both the logger’s labor and the percussive elements of a Noh performance, reinforcing Snyder’s central parallel between human work and ritualized movement. The abruptness of "falling / And skidding the red-bark pine" recalls the relentless, irreversible fall of trees.

The poem then expands outward again, moving from the immediate moment of felling to a broader natural perspective: "Clouds over Olallie Butte / Scatter rain on the Schoolie flat." Olallie Butte, a volcanic peak in Oregon, connects the scene to a larger geological scale, while rain—a force of regeneration—introduces a counterbalance to the destruction of logging.

This transition leads into another encounter with wildlife: "A small bear slips out the wet brush / crosses the creek." Unlike the cosmic bear stalking the Pole-star, this is a humble, terrestrial presence, quietly navigating a world shaped by both natural forces and human intrusion. The bear’s unobtrusive crossing suggests continuity despite disruption.

The final lines, "Seami, Kwanami, / Gone too. / Through the pines.", return to the evocation of Noh theater. Kwanami (or Kan’ami) was Zeami’s father, who helped establish Noh as an art form. Their names, followed by "Gone too", suggest that like these figures, the trees, the loggers, and even the logging culture itself will pass away in time. The phrase "Through the pines." leaves the poem open-ended—both a literal reference to the disappearing forest and a metaphor for transience, echoing Zeami’s aesthetic of impermanence.

Snyder’s "Logging: 4" masterfully blends industrial, ecological, and cultural themes, positioning logging within a broad and layered framework of time, ritual, and inevitable change. The poem does not merely condemn logging but situates it within cycles of destruction and renewal, mirroring the rhythms of nature and human history alike. Through its juxtapositions of labor and theater, industry and wilderness, Snyder invites the reader to consider logging not just as an act of violence, but as part of an ongoing, evolving dance between humans and the land.

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