L'aura del Campo

In your coldest nightmare

Today's scribble

In your coldest nightmare

You flap pale wings and fly through deep caverns
Two dogs whimper in pain. You don't answer.
Frost scampers away from your fingers, You bring
winter. An old man cries out, Go away!
You breathe hailstones. His nostrils fall off.
The cave is your mouth, is your mother's womb.
She tells you to leave her to rot. Warm winds
blow you out. You seek shelter under the Alps.
Mount Blanc says you look beautiful tonight.
You ignore him and fly to the moon. Your
father is waiting. He's not amused. You're late
and where is your date. Go back and get him.
You cry. You know it's a trap. On your way back
crystals drop from your eyes on the Alps.
You fly to Lyon, to Toulouse. They find you
in Paris. Two rats snarl and grab your baguette.
You bash at their tails. They lead you into
Temptation, a fine chocolate shop. You drink tea
with the queen and prime minister. Italy!
they both exclaim and make you ambassador.
Mount Blanc awaits open-mouthed. You fall into
a crevice, lie on ice there for centuries.
You wake up. The queen's lost her head. Your father's
still waiting. You mother's still bitter. Your cave's
now a tourist hot spot. You want to die.
And you would... if only you could.

© Kåre Enga [166.329] 2009-12-02

Sketching it out:

Another of the 'nightmares' inspired by Hugo's 'dreams'. Disparate images, one after another, a punching rhythm. This one would be for the Blood of the Garlic character Lily.

Me and Mine:

I had a guy walk into my room after midnight, Thursday morn, and plop on my bed. When I asked him didn't he want to go sleep in his own bed, he said he liked this one.

Anyhoo... turns out he's the new guy down the hall, went to use the bathroom and took the wrong turn. Libby and I got him to his room.

He was a tad drunk...

I did get to Spanish Circle and hung out at Butterfly Herbs. Writing group was at Franses' and Sintaclaas handed out gifts.

Kalin at Butterfly Herbs likes to play Pentangle, a British folk group from the '70s:



Montana: 22º and thin clouds.

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