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" ![]() "Waterlily" ![]() "Boise City" ![]() "Drugs sold here" ![]() 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?" ![]() "Footprints in the snow, in memory of Nyia Page" ![]() "Il pleure (poem). We R puddle-luscious, aujourd'hui." ![]() FACES ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() PLACES ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Kåre ![]() ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
Galaxies dazzle in a dance; strewn suns swirl with their minions, mere eddies on streams of cosmic consciousness. This rock we sleep upon provides spare repose from a never-ending enthusiasm engulfing us — rest — Zmitri, tomorrow I leave you to yourself. |
Your cool depths betray no emotion, Zmitri; your surface, undisturbed, remains unriffled. I would toss a warm pebble onto your frozen puddle, to let you know that I've visited, a quiet reminder to let you know — you're not alone. |