L'aura del Campo

[I take a room in an old hotel]

I have chopsticks, but she asks if I want a fork for my quiche. She keeps a spare knife ready for those who orders peas. (I'm at Bernice's.)



[I take a room in an old hotel]

I take a room in an old hotel
seek a corner in the depths of his soul
both provide a place to hide
where unnoticed I thrive on meagre sunshine
come winter on crumbs of leftover kindness
from a lunch he once denied me to buy
leavings missed by peace-doves
mere pigeons to some
to others— a hope of escape
their wings flutter outside my window
they do not enter do not offer me a ride
from the heart of my room
where in this corner I call to him
hide meaning in faked-shallow words
meant to stir only the depths of his soul

© Kåre Enga 2010-10-08 [167.218]



I'll have to reconsider punctuation at some point and find a title unless the first line suffices and choose between you/him. The first line was inspired by something I read.



Done with Cutbank #65. My opinion? Frankly my dear: I did find parts of Dan Beachy-Quick's work "This Nest, Swift Passerine: 3rd Movement" fascinating. Much of the rest? Bleh... I like to be able to understand what is written and prefer to be moved by what I read. I have no need to yawn over other people's mental-masturbations.

Sun. Clouds. Maybe moon? Maybe not. Cool day in Montana.

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