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Prairie Dogging

Monday, 26. September 2011 18:30

the enso

Image of the West side of the Valles Caldera in New Mexico

"In Valles Caldera" by marlowe

the poem

The soft rise
on the NW side
of the gravel
road is pitted
with your dens. You
pop in and out
as we slowly rumble
by our reverberations
setting the tone. Are you
scared of the Jeep
or dismayed
by its anti-climatic
arrival — oh humans
again when will
the elk return?
You escaped
the fire nestled
in the Caldera the irony
escaping everyone
including the park
rangers who sold us
cokes and gourmet candy.
It is surreal to sit
on iron patio chairs
in the middle of a dimple
formed by fire
and force and feel
the peace left behind
the golden meadows
you roamed while
the rim was scarred
by a new fire
a force entirely
man-made its impact
unknown. Perhaps the wind
spoke in your alert ear
one sunny afternoon
as you emerged?
Did the eagle’s
squawk give away
the ending? Or did you
not know at all mistaking
us for elk mistaking
the risk as you scuttled
away from our exhaust?

Category:Animal, Human, Plant | Comments Off | Author:

Compilation #6

Tuesday, 8. February 2011 21:00

the enso

An office plant and a chair sit by window blinds

"Window Blinds" by marlowe

the poem

You see these leaves at dusk, kissed
by the departing sun, glittering like flakes
of gold dust. Lattices
of snowflakes lay like antique lace,
a white crochet scarf adorning your jacket.
The cold may encase
your bones like ribbons of linen
wrapping a mummy but the sun
is an electric blanket, a friend
as warm as the clay
coffee mug you cradle. The dog’s woolly coat
separates into columns like a coral reef,
your hand a starfish.
Fence posts are the discard spears
of our wars, recycled.
You see the downtown skyscrapers flicker
like candles on a birthday cake, and you wish
for the full moon, a whole
peppermint pattie. You know
pine cones, artichokes, lotus flowers, and humans unfold
to find their inner beauty, to find relief.
Meanwhile, inside, the window blinds slant
like the ridges of a steel washboard, and the chandelier
crystals sparkle like sequins. When you are still,
you can hear the groans and creaks
of your soul. Like an overripe fruit, we teeter
on a balance beam, swinging between growth and rot,
light and dark. Our paths may fork
but the tree, with its multitude of branches, creates
so many starts and ends, showing us how
to hold possibility. These gold coins
jangling in your purse, these suns you hide
from the world, are your talents.

Category:Animal, Human, Mineral, Plant | Comments Off | Author: