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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 Lagada, la vita" "Between us" "La Bella Vita" "Starbeams on Tulsa" 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." "In a garden of roses, baby" "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 |
| 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 |
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