Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
L'aura del campo 'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos' ♣ Federico García Lorca ♣ L'aura del campo. A breeze in the meadow. So it began the last day of Spring, 2005; on the 16th day of the month of Light of the year 162. This is a supplement to my daily journal written to a friend, my muse; notes I do not share. Here I will share what the breeze has whispered to me. PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS! I LV COMMENTS! On a practical note, in answer to your questions: IN MEMORIUM VerySara passed away November 12, 2005 Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings. More suggested links: These pictures rotate. Kåre Enga ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish |
Thoughts of silk (provisional title) Caught between what was and what will be I reweave these moments from unraveled strands strengthen the web to support my breathing one more day. Silk runs through my fingers patterns forming before closed lids. One does not need eyes to see. the rocks bloom in colors beyond paper walls built 2 centuries after the fall from Grace, from the ship that brought us here. We mash beets. Soak corn. Hollyhocks grow high around the lilacs. Willows shade the beets; poison ivy protect the corn. and the outhouse smells of rotting tomatoes. It will need lime soon. My hands flash between now and then, pluck one errant strand that will not sing. Discordant music pierces the calm. This denial that all that was, all that will be mere reused silk, now warp and weft my hands have woven or will weave. © Kåre Enga [6.september.2016 Missoula] Random blitherings written during Xiong's poetry reading. |