THE LAST SUMATRAN RHINOCEROS
Pangaean bliss to swim at sea,
as horsefly bites
are sucked by salt:
our ticks were all renamed, once we
lost last parasitical clout
A rock or glass? Tincture, potions:
I need not tread
the bottom here
Doggie-paddle, liquid lotions
in felt-fold plates my bristled hair
or slips of clay like beasts of Han--
extended head
and back tricorn
a myth designed to frighten man,
yet cast and buried not alone
I'll sink, of course, as potsherd bones
hiss carbon-fizz
And what I'd been?
Last left confabulates thick tomes,
sans funerary shard or hymn
HERR KEPLER'S NOTEBOOK
Time is the bully anchor of the opposing tug-rope team.
The person with a happy home life tracks glitter through the world; the solitary person leaves snowprints.
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"The grasshopper warbler's song comes up out of the earth just as you think the day is quietening down. It has no prelude or warm-up: it starts midperformance, as if switched on by the dark, as it if has been singing like this beneath the earth until it was dark enough to come to the surface. As if, though we hardly hear it, this singing never stops."
A Year on the Wing (Tim Dee)
All writing and cartoons on this site copyright 2008-2010 Julia Martin, unless otherwise credited.
The person with a happy home life tracks glitter through the world; the solitary person leaves snowprints.
-------------------------------------
"The grasshopper warbler's song comes up out of the earth just as you think the day is quietening down. It has no prelude or warm-up: it starts midperformance, as if switched on by the dark, as it if has been singing like this beneath the earth until it was dark enough to come to the surface. As if, though we hardly hear it, this singing never stops."
A Year on the Wing (Tim Dee)
All writing and cartoons on this site copyright 2008-2010 Julia Martin, unless otherwise credited.
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