A Scarecrow of No Field

A new exciting blog has appeared on the net.

A Scarecrow of No Field, by dear friend Starksy, is only 2 posts old, and I am looking forward to seeing the following ones. 

Starksy is also the author of "What's the point?", a cool POV on Dada for JMB [joinmeforbreakfast].

Suggested for those of us who love poems; recommended for those looking for joy, creativity, and passion.

The second post of the blog tells a lot about the little Swiss Starksy:

Physical Poetry

So I had dropped my Physics class, but after about 5 weeks the academic dean informs me I need the class to graduate. Today, my third or second day back, we had a test.
There was no way I was answering those questions.
So I decided to write a poem instead.
This isn't the first time I've done this. In fact I wrote song lyrics on my AP Biology exam. It's kind of the fallback plan. You look like you're working, it's amusing, and more spiritually cleansing than freaking out over a few unfathomable physics formulas used in order to calculate the gravitational attraction between two masses. I copied the poem down on a separate sheet of paper, and I thought I'd post it up here. The ice may be symbolic of my mental state in physics class. But maybe not.
This poem is all improvised line by line quickly, and I haven't changed anything from the original. So this is what my Physics teacher is going to read when looking for my calculations.

From Under the Ice

Silver leaves from painted trees

Drift across the gloomy lake

Dragonflies with ruby eyes

Migrate with the first snow-flake

The trees, now bare, scream everywhere-

There’s not much more they’ll take

Branches bend, but if they mend,

What else can springtime make?

But winter’s here and hope, my dear,

Has hidden with the bear

The sun still burns and the earth, it turns,

Though neither know nor care

I’m under ice that froze so nice

It resembles a jewel most rare

I can’t recall, in ill or all

A punishment more fair

My nerves are shot, my heart has fought-

Surrender’s now at hand

I’d wished to see just one more tree

Bloom brilliance on this land