L'aura del Campo

Sparrows flock

Today's scribble

Sparrows flock

Call it dying. This weight of living, this halt of moving. Beyond the lack of caring, do you care? And if you do, would the pain of living lift like fog from hill. No. Call it dying, this entombment wintry white where faint rays of slanted sunlight reach the sparrows resting on the yew. And you? Beyond the hills, beyond the sparrows flight, let tomb doors open, where cradled by your lullaby, dying beckons light.

sun rays
sparrows flock
on the yew

© Kåre Enga [166.339] 2009-12-17

Sketching it out:

Edited from my Journal, page 2228. I even took pictures of the sparrows... but didn't manage to save them.

Other writers say...

John Ashbery (1927-lives in NYC) on poetry. He mentions living in France, Alfred...:



AmidaTong reads John Ashbery's "In The Time of Cherries:

http://www.youtube.com/user/AmidaTong#p/u/2/6Z3sGImVP1E

Thou:

I noticed yesterday that Come Fly with Me--Kiter had given 999 reviews! That's a lot!

Me and Mine:

Excerpts from my personal journal:

[page 2229] I'm feeling overwhelmed. Logically, rationally, I'm quite fine. But I'm not "well". Not physically, mentally, emotionally. I want to call you, have you talk for 10 minutes. Tell me about your life. I need you to sing a "lullaby" of normal life, what you live every day, what seems beyond my grasp. I need to be cradled by your laughter. I pray it would be enough.

Sparrows were sitting on top of the bushes, not going anywhere. Usually they are skittish, not these, not today. They were catching a ray - one of the few that peeked thru the overcast fog today.

At least I got out to the library: Walter, Virginia, Érica, Luís, María... the Spanish Circle.

@ Butterfly Herbs. Mikki made me an espresso over cardamom ice-cream. I spoke about my need to leave this womb. She mentioned how she wants to stay. If there were a train... I'd be on my way.

I am writing. Depression is a gift in a way. If I stayed in Costa Rica would I cease to cry, would my pen lay still?

[page 2230] Still daylight but not for long. I long for people and places beyond my grasp. I take photos, write letters. When at last the sun sets, what light will I carry within.

I intrude... and therefore run the risk of alienating people. I annoy, yet another word for intrusion. I withdraw and keep out the light - it is less painful to avoid people. It is safer.

I already called Kathleen Snow and thanked her for her call & to say I won't be going to the writer's group tonight. I didn't say why. I so much want to crawl into my shell. Perhaps if I eat I'll perk up a bit?

Coda: I'm at home eating short ribs and beans. I'll take a rosemary-sage bubblebath with my shirts and pants... life will go on. If I have energy later, I may go to the cabaret next door.

Montana: 32º and dense fog in downtown Missoula at 5 p.m.

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