Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
1991 D Quarter You are 18 and I would be... old the day you were born like this coin minted in Denver encrusted with the leavings of a thousand hands worn and devalued a product of time and inflation. Yet you are fresh far more fresh than metal stamped with a face and an eagle flesh still too firm to have been worn and devalued too slim and naïve to know the future, your own inflation. You are 18 and I would still be... old. © Kåre Enga [166.146] 2009-07-20 Picked up a nasty looking quarter and wrote while I was sitting at The Break Espresso last night. A rhyming (kinda) resource in Italian: http://www.alcor.com.au/italian_rhyming_dictionary.asp Now... I had to find a rhyme for cosa (thing) and chose dolorosa (painful). And then I went back and forth between three languages trying to come up with an Italian version of yesterday's rondelet in French. The 4/8/4/8/8/8/4 became 6/12/6/12/12/12/6 (give or take a syllable or two). è la stessa cosa nel tuo cuore o la tua canzone è la stessa cosa perché quando la morte dolorosa distrugge la pace in questa stagione e non vi è alcuna buona ragione è la stessa cosa Egads! I'm having too much fun. BTW... Io non parlo italiano. Gnus: How long will you live? Reports are that centenarians will double by mid-century. A Britain from WW I just died at 113. The oldest man may be in Great Falls, Montana: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090720/ap_on_re_us/us_oldest_man Blah-blah-blah: Did a workshop on ekphrasis today. The Dana Gallery had removed a charcoal I had chosen, but the other paintings, sculpture and photographs were still there. We each then went to Fact & Fiction to write. Went okay. Did about 6 short 'poetic' sketches today. 4 for workshop and 2 while sitting next to Rattlesnake Creek. Images: (from Sunday's sunset along the Clark Fork Caras Park to Orange Street): pink roses; gold yarrow; spent grass; the grey-green plant of knapweed blooming pale purple; sounds of the carousal before closing; sun at the horizon; gold bugs; white yarrow, it's pungent leaves; cut poplar (beaver at work?); the ever-flowing river, receded from the high level of Spring. Montana: 83° at 9 p.m. in Missoula. 16,254 |