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 |   Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
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Enga mellom Fjella  Sentinel Marked as if you own me I bow before the Bitterroots and just like you my rocky soil, my withered grass lays prey to the empty sky. © Kåre Enga 2007 "Sentinel"   Reader's Choice of Poems: "Sentinel" "In the midst of silence" "A radiant moon has set" "I, Katrina" "Willowsong" Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" :"Death of Jeannie New Moon" "Winter: 18 Mas'il (December 29)" "Even in chaos ... More hockey poems." "Half-naked dreams? 'Getting the stain out of genes!" "James Doohan, Scotty. Ombra mai fu. Eutin Guitar Orchestra" FACES     PLACES            Kåre  Enga~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
| I lived in the garden in Spring and Autumn. Summer and Winter I sought refuge in the closet. I...have been through many seasons. House #1 I stayed out of the cellar. I lived there for less than 2 years. House #2 I never did get into my attic. I lived there for 13 years. I rarely went into the basement. House #3 I slept in a closet with a window facing the dawn. 3 years was a life sentence. Since my nightmares revolve around mistakes, I may never own a house again. Then again... I'm in a condo. Still can't get two of the drawers under the bed to open. It also seems that items placed in those drawers might escape... just saying. Some cabinets and drawers I seldom, if ever, open. Time to channel my inner feline and find out. Same with the building. I've used the pool twice but I'm allergic to fitness rooms (3rd floor). I've never been to the top floor (14th). I've used the stairs once, the day we moved in, as there was a fire drill. I've visited friends on the 1st floor. They have 2 doors, one in the hall, the other outside. There's a dry-cleaner in our building. The washing machines cost 30 or 40 baht. I'm sure that there are hidden rooms and hidden doors, but I haven't seen any monkeys. 230 words 58.448 |
| There are so many types of monkeys in the world. In Costa Rica they steal bananas or howl when it rains. Here? I know a snow-monkey who lives in Montana, one who hides out with hay-and-horses, another known to dance the hula (in Hawai'i!). And then there's the polar-monkey who ventures out in Manitoba's summer... a.k.a. First of July. Oh, my. So many monkeys monkeying around. Maybe wearing my Costa Rica monkey shirt will attract some simians in Thailand. Maybe not. Hopefully not. It's hard to wash out the T-shirt: cold water, no ironing, no dry-cleaning. And monkeys... just being monkeys... 101 words |
| I have no clue what Andre does in the basement... if there be monkeys... maybe I don't want to know. But... then... I'm careful rummaging around my own basement. Yes, I can be as curious as a cat... or a monkey; but, I really don't want to know sometimes. My own basement is dark. It's where things go to get lost. Some should stay lost... forever. Other people's basements are not so dangerous. Other people's problems don't affect me in the same way unless I allow their issues to become mine. I haven't always had good boundaries. So... no rummaging in basements today. Clothes must be unpacked. The cupboard must be restocked. The onions grew in the dark whilst we were gone. Refrigerators can be a tad like a basement. Spooky. 131 words. 58.426 |
| 1. Because we choose to live alone, surrounded by walls topped with barbed wire, with AI security that only allows entry to those who know the magic password... we will die alone. We're already on life-support. Yes, there are those who cherish family and friends; but, for many, estrangement deepens as they choose to build higher and thicker walls to bandage self-inflicted bruises. There's no hope of healing for those who prefer to die. 2. If I had a balloon, dear Tina Shadow Prowler-Spreading Love I would see nothing but orange haze at the horizon and dusty city streets below. If I were to rise higher even that would be shrouded by haze and smoke that chokes. The air kills the lungs and the will to live. There is no breeze to clear it out, no rain to scrub it. Birds sing at their own peril and folks behind masks slow down and speak in a hush. There's no rush to die as Death walks the alley ways of the poor and aged; weary, yet aware of the waste, sends minions to the hospitals for the bountiful harvest. Higher up there's nothing to see. All directions cringe a sickly orange-tinted grey. Even my shadow lay muted and no breeze freshens to send us on our way. I hang there, suspended, listless, too depressed to summon Death or beg to die. 3. Dear s, At least you can respond with a sentence! Most folks seem to grunt (two word max). And you've been very open about your precarious situation as well. I used to get 10-15 comments/day in my blog when I was homeless and destitute. Howaboutthat! I got 4 views/day in my blog over the last year. Twitter and Tik-tok videos get thousands of views in one hour (and numerous comments, many of them incoherent, ignorant or hateful). Nowadays no one seems interested in interactions unless it's flinging horse manure. Not only is discourse not civil, it's non-existent. One would think that writers might be different, but they aren't. The isolation of covid and the ability to cut oneself off from the real world (physically, mentally and emotionally) seems to delight many who 20 years ago would have been sitting in cafes and diners chatting with friends, who 15 years ago were chatting on facebook, who 10 years ago dropped social media (like WdC) or became addicted to sound bites. The 2016 USA election (7 years ago) was an example of how processing truths, lies and hatred had shifted. Now we have AI. I predict that within the next year I can program messages to be sent daily, monthly, or yearly to friends without any further input from me. At some point they will be Postcards from the Dead. 4. We will die alone, because we choose to. 58.373 |
| Teddy had a tantrum. Reliving childhood, he made everyone at his funeral miserable. Friends had gathered to put him under the sod. But, by God, Teddy wasn't about to rest-in-peace. He was last seen crawling out of his coffin. |
| การแปลนี้ไม่ดี แต่สำหรับตอนนี้... นี่คือนิยาย แต่ Pond = คุณ “เสียงตบมือข้างเดียว” มือของพอนด์จับมือของอีกคนไว้ มันนุ่มนวลและน่าตื่นเต้น เขาไม่สนว่าใครจะมองอยู่หรือเปล่า ไม่มีใครกล้าแสดงความคิดเห็นในขณะที่เขาเดินตัวตรงและแน่วแน่ไปยังแผงขายของในตลาด เขาหิว เขาหิวตลอดเวลา เสียงของตลาดเงียบลงเช่นเคย ไม่มีใครตะโกนเหมือนคนขายปลา พวกเขาขายตับไก่ย่างหรือหมูแผ่นติดไม้ กองแมลงเป็นกิโล เครื่องดื่มมะม่วงเย็น กล้วย หรือมะละกอในถ้วยเพื่อไป เขาซื้อสองอัน กลิ่นห่อหุ้มเขาด้วยกลิ่นที่เขารู้จักมาโดยตลอด แต่มือที่ประสานกันนั้นเป็นของใหม่สำหรับเขา เขาแบ่งปันความสุขอันเยือกเย็นของเขาในขณะที่เขาแนะนำเพื่อนใหม่ของเขาไปยังที่นั่งที่พวกเขาสามารถรับประทานอาหารได้ เขาเลือกของที่มีรสเปรี้ยวแต่ไม่เผ็ดเกินไป เขาตักข้าวและปลาหมึกใส่ช้อนด้วยส้อมแล้วยื่นให้เพื่อนร่วมทาง เขานึกถึงแม่และน้องสาวของเขาที่อยู่ห่างออกไปหลายชั่วโมง เขามักจะรู้สึกเหงาเมื่อรับประทานอาหาร วันนี้เขาไม่รู้สึกเหงาเลย เขายิ้ม. เขาตั้งใจจะไม่เหงาในคืนนี้หรืออีกหลายคืนที่จะตามมา ตอนเย็นเดินกลับบ้าน จับมือกัน สงบสุข จนกระทั่ง... ภวังค์ของเขาถูกขัดจังหวะด้วยเสียงโครมครามที่ดังมาจากทิศทางที่พวกเขากำลังมุ่งหน้าไป ดูเหมือนจะไม่มีใครสังเกตเห็นในขณะที่ตลาดพึมพำโดยไม่รู้ตัว แต่ที่ข้างตัวเขา เขาได้ยินเสียงหอบและรู้สึกว่ามือถูกปลดออก... เหมือนถอนหายใจ |
| And then I walked away Heaven? Only those who believe will enter. Then I wish you well. You're not coming with me? Tickets cost too much. But you only have to— Be someone I'm not. But... I wish you well. |
| Peace. As in "piece of cake"? No. Peace. As in piece of... No. Peace. As in no war. My baking never fights back! *sigh* Do you want a piece of pumpkin pie or not? Please. Here, eat it in peace. |
| The ceiling fell. Yeah, because the floor above it flooded. Well! I couldn't turn the faucet off. Because you stripped it. I only turned it on to take a bath. Because I told you to. And? You needed to. Oh. |
| "I want to be close to my friend's heart." "What's your favorite color?" "Red." "Granted." "Whoa. Why am I a red shirt?" "Every Sunday your friend will wear you." "Did you grant his wish too?" "Lace underwear isn't my specialty." |
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