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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: "'heart's home'" "In the midst of silence" "A radiant moon has set" "Speak soft my name" "Plain cover jacket" 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)" "When is it proper to tell someone you love them?" "Half-naked dreams? 'Getting the stain out of genes!" "Wheat penny. Gave in, started a forum." FACES     PLACES            Kåre  Enga~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
First entry for June's
Journalistic Intentions #7: The only reason I would take up jogging is so that I could fit back into my Wonder Woman costume. Whiskerfacebythefireplace  I'm Wonder Woman! Yeah, me and Donald both.  Back in the day he wore it better. For some reasons the sequins drew attention and ... he was ALL about grabbing the most attention! At least I knew when to exit. Donnie John would get up on stage and forget when and how to get off. Fell flat on his face more than once. Never fazed him. Me? I tried to focus on what needed to be done. I figured it wasn't all about me me me ... like some folks.  Also, the quicker I finished the easier on my crotch. Those costumes suck&bind and are never fitted properly. Ah ... but that was way-back-when, before Donnie went on to be a big star-in-his-own-mind. Heard he ended up with a couple trophy wives ... and now lives in a big white house. No word whether his three sons do drag like their father did though. Heard they don't have the guts. Just as well. Word is that Don-boy still likes his makeup and costumes.  I gave them up. Decided to get a life. Plus, after the disco days my body plumped. It's been a stuggle ever since. Ah ... but to wear that old costume and save the world! It still hangs in a closet mocking me. I never throw anything out. Maybe if I jogged? Yeah, right. Do I really look like I need a heart attack? I should begin by walking down those stairs, going out the door and just keep walking. If I go far enough I might even find ABBA and 1982, fit in those star-spangled jeans and dance like a Queen! I wonder whether Donald ever invites royalty over. I should call. Thanks to Elisa the Bunny Stik  and Robert Waltz  for encouraging me to write this ... well ... not this! but to write. 56.919 |
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