Enga mellom fjella

Stone angel: é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos

♣ 'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos,' ♣ Federico García Lorca.

It is the moon, the moon, in the courtyard of the dead ...

Stone angel

for Brandon

He lies there serene,
stiff on blue mats,
his sarcophagus,
silent.
No movement of thin chest,
no audible breath,
destroys this illusion.
His piercing song has been blunted by this night;
his swagger stiffened.
The smell of alcohol disperses;
there is no taste of tomorrow.
He seems to sleep,
perchance he dreams of pleasant things;
he does not wake.
I could reach across
this void between us.
touch his golden hair,
his porcelain face.
No stone angel
has ever been so finely chiseled
with the Face of God
nor bristled with the swagger of the Devil's pose.
Until the dawning,
I shall let him sleep in peace.

© 2009 Kåre Enga [165.404] 2008-01-07

Brandon would swagger, sing and pout by day, but asleep he looked like an angel carved on a sarcophagus. Since Jason died on two of those blue mats, the analogy is not far-fetched. I haven't heard from Brendan Lemley in two years. I hope he is well and wonder whether he is still singing in Pittsburgh.

blah:

On sunny days (so few in winter in Western Montana) one blah will do.

Last night was a no-screamer. A bit stiff at times, but no spasms. I actually slept in a tad until the sun rose over Mt. Sentinel and flooded the valley with light. My geraniums don't seem to mind. I haven't taken a walk yet, but I should!

Met with the writer's group, Fiction Plus, last night. Shared my poem, "Snail". Must remember to make copies! My poem I posted yesterday would've been good too. It's been edited and is now its own item: "Grey silhouettes" .

I was able to walk to Kate's, but the side streets were dark, the puddles were black lagoons, the ice uneven ... bitch, bitch, bitch ... I didn't fall, didn't have any spasms, and walked right to an address I had never been to, even found the cut-off through the schoolyard ... sheer serendipity. Oona, Kate's dog, objected to my presence, but no one else did. Hobie gave me a ride home. He's a dear.

Off to MahJong tonight, so I will post this early.

MILLSTONES and MILESTONES:

When I checked just now, this blog has 1,001 views for the last 30-some days. It will be reset by end of day and dip below that benchmark, perhaps to rise above it again tomorrow. I've worked very hard for this! WDC member viewers are up to 83 (62 women; 21 men). I have other blogs that are read or not read ... and that's okay, but I write this particular blog to be read and commented on. I am so pleased that so many have taken the time to peek in and comment.

This is just a personal gloat, however. There are blogs of all different ilk. Some are far more popular than mine; others are far better written. But we share this: we write. We write about ourselves, about our shadows; we write to inform, to connect, to scream out into night ... hoping someone will care. We write for many reasons. We write because we have to. Yep. That's what we do.

BLOGVILLE

With over 10k views, this blog is around #73 on the view list ... now think for a moment ... my 1st blog has over 30k and is ~#4. Now ... do the math ... 75 x 10k = 750,000 views of the top 75 blogs. Since the tippity top is far above 10k, figure that this means way over 1 million views for just the top 75. Blogville may go through a slump now and then, but it is still chug-a-lugging. YOU! are being read.

Welcome marcushogan to Blogville. He's a young Scot from Edinburgh with two dogs and that typical young male British sense of humor. He's already picked up on the concept of an interactive community of bloggers! Oh my, another Z.˚rz , or Fivesixer ? Can some of us stand for this? Or do we just roll on the floor laughing?

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Montana: 36º at noon

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