Mosasaurus and Archelon

Rainy day

2009-04-21T22:29:00.002-05:00

The day began silverfish grey, with black whipped clouds mottling the horizon. The wind, chattering snappishly at the windows, spit angry wet bullets that homed in on any opening. Heads tucked like shy baby birds, hands jammed into pockets in an effort to anchor themselves to the earth, the people seemed to walk through a charcoal drawing, every once in a while dotting it with a bright red or yellow speck.

NaPoSoSo

2009-04-20T00:26:00.002-05:00

Well, at least I haven't given up completely...

8:30 Sunday, the wistful hour. The breeze, like ghosts’ sighs, floats in through the window and whispers sorrows into your hair.Outside, on the asphalt, grey fences make disproportionate shadow ladders that feed into themselves. Walking past an evening garden party, the guests are silent and staring, a sad washed-out pantomime. The day dies, the week dies, nothing to be done but mull over Monday’s responsibilities and commiserate with the ghosts on the air.

Snot

2009-04-14T20:41:00.002-05:00

NaPoWriMo has been on hold due to vacation and now sickness. Hope to be back on when less snotty.

8

2009-04-09T01:15:00.004-05:00

I leave you with this...It is arguable whether or not it is a poem, but it is certainly a truth. I will be on vacation until Saturday, when I will return with waterfall-inspired poems!

Observation from the Bus

A wiener dog with elephantitis is a sad thing indeed.

7

2009-04-08T14:42:00.003-05:00

I am still off by one day..ahhh.

Walking home

Some of the marigolds are already closed up.

Some are still stretching, straining over

The curve of the hill to catch the last rays of sun,

Which has broken its yoke on the tip of the pyramid

And runs gooey-golden down the steps.

6

2009-04-06T19:48:00.002-05:00

April 21, 1509

The blood right being most tenuous,
Seemed better to proudly wave the flag of right of conquest.
And of course, it did not hurt to mingle the red and white roses’ petals,
Though two pale buds be snapped off the bush in the process.
The play between bastardy and legitimacy exhausted,
The royal palette preferred Rioja to Bordeaux,
Albeit Malus Intercursus never did seem to roll off the tongue.
Curse the Spanish ability to survive or die when the time seems right,
Curse the draftiness of Ludlow castle, bless Pope Julius II, and
Pray the hybrid rose take root in the pomegranate’s arils.

5

2009-04-06T18:58:00.005-05:00

I was out of internet range last night so today there are two. I am having fun with my British monarchy poems.

April 9, 1483

The saint’s mad cackling long ago ceased to ring off the walls of the Tower,
The bloom on the cheeks of the last red rose is decades faded
And modus et ordo reign in England.
Private executions in a butt of wine, brothers wed to enemies,
French treaties and another child king…it seems the name Edward
Is out of favor with the Fates and, alas!
A Tudor in exile is nothing the same as a Lancastrian dead.

Número 4

2009-04-05T08:17:00.006-05:00

Last night the internet was down, but here goes #4.

January 13, 1453

Ruffle and crinkle of crinoline crisp, "The mistress is sick!"

The smell of wet dog, a hound opens a drowsy eye

And shuts it again, it's too early to begin the hunt.

A satin robe stamped with red roses is draped over a generous belly

Which goes down two floors to her bed, a mound covered in down.

She is with child, "A boy, Monseigneur, to silence their viperous tongues!"

Back up again to rouse the hounds, exchange silk for heavy furs.

The sun stretches and shakes off sleep, sending translucent

Rays which sparkle off the Thames like the crown I see upon my son's head.

Day 3

2009-04-03T14:45:00.004-06:00

Night lights

Over Virginia, headed to Dulles:
Giant fractal octopi, winding their tentacles around and around each other.

Over Texas, headed to Dallas/Ft Worth:
Rhombi, trapezoids, rectangles.

Over Madrid. headed to Barajas:
Millions of eyes, drowsily winking at each other.

Over Ireland, headed to Dublin:
Bosomy hills with fairy light footskirts.

Over the Czech Republic, headed to Ruzyně:
Creamy, out-of-focus blobs of butter.

Over Mexico City, headed to Benito Juarez:
The pereférico is a shiny, slithering snake.

Panda sneeze

2009-04-03T09:59:00.003-06:00

Poem 3 later today. For now, this.

Gesundheit

Sopa de alfabeto

2009-04-02T23:48:00.004-06:00

Ok, so it's late and I'm playing with sounds.

Sopa de alfabeto

Ni chingados

Por chico

Al chile

Chismear

Ni modo

Por maduro

A la moda

Modular

Ni pico

Por poquito

Al poco

Procrear

Ni sólo

Por sabio

A la siesta

Sazonar

Do vs. Make

2009-04-01T23:09:00.005-06:00

I was in Mexico City a few weeks back and saw a truck with a homemade mud flap that said "The devil made me make it." (Translation of the verb hacer into English presents some problems for Spanish speakers, since it can be translated as do or make.) And so...

The devil made me make it.

1 lizard's toe, 1 eye of frog,

4 hoods of cobra, 1 tongue of dog,

1 chile serrano, 1 dragon's scale,

1 teaspoon arsenic, 1 liver of whale.

Heat cauldron to igneous,

Add ingredients two by two.

Stir occasionally with pitchfork

Until achieving consistency of glue.

Grease 13x9-inch pan with poison

Taken from a blind worm's sting.

Bake 31 days and nights,

Allow to cool and add frosting.

Now the finishing touches,

Just one candle will do,

Write in black bile icing:

Luci, here's to you.

NaPoWriMo

2009-03-30T00:56:00.006-06:00

One day left until NaPoWriMo. I never seem to make it past the first week, thus the creation of this blog...hopefully my Cretaceous marine reptile friends will give me the inspiration necessary to make it the full 30 days.