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Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
![]() Becoming two As a bird builds a nest: ice clings to plum; cold blossoms where he can no longer keep you locked within his heart, must let your name leave the womb of his mouth, a newborn calf's tongue rasping salt off raw wounds, calm brown eyes becoming pools he dares not fall into... again. What a fool! To think he could keep you where he needs you the most, a pacemaker without which his pen pumps fresh cow dung, new compost. one melody becoming two: robin, worm © Kåre Enga [166.340] 2009-12-18 ![]() I have no clue! There was a melody in my mind at the time, I suppose. ![]() SpokenVerse has done quite a few recordings of poets. Two of his readings: Delmore Schwartz' poem "The Heavy Bear Who Goes With Me": SpokenVerse reads Robert Lowell's "Skunk Hour": ![]() Being ill is one thing, not knowing what it is is worse. But, at least AL ![]() ![]() ![]() The rest of the story... As she left, Penelope's green eyes begged me to pet her. Her soft mew said now would be a good time. That was after I had soaked in the tub after having cooked pork short ribs and beans, blowing bubbles the fragrance of rosemary and sage, relaxing while scrubbing my pants with a bar of Fels Naphtha. She had fled from Apartment 4, snuck in my door, left her calling card on the bed. Ah... Penelope... next time I'll search before bathing. ![]() ![]() 57,756 |