Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
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: "'heart's home'" "In Lagada, la vita" "A radiant moon has set" "For Jeanette ... when she grows old" "Wheat penny" Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" : "Death of Jeannie New Moon" "Doing and don'ting. A scene in 2nd person." "When is it proper to tell someone you love them?" "Half-naked dreams? 'Getting the stain out of genes!" "Poems inspired by maps. Remember 1963?" FACES PLACES Kåre Enga ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
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 |