Anyway, I was walking my dog Luna out at the Fulton County fairgrounds the other day when I looked up in the sky, and this evil-looking dude was giving me the stare down. He kept it up long enough that I had time to get a picture of him. As he slowly moved off to the northwest, he continued to shake his oversized fist at me, but I wasn't scared. He is just a bunch of water vapor. He didn't even have any lightning or thunder though he looks in a foul mood.
So... first blog in a week. Here is where things are. I have 28 students in two summer classes and one independent study. That leaves me no real time to write. I am not much at writing in snatches, so I am not getting much done. I have a post apocalyptic story/song that I am working on tentatively called The Song of King Thoom. Let me get you a snippet of that.
The Song of King Thoom
I Ooman
I Thoom-King of Oomans
Foer King-time Thoom look sky
Oomans move bove ground thick boosh
Oomans klect seeds roots bries
Oomans look down n look round
Thoom look up sky
Thoom look for Hok
Hok bove sky
Hok no cloud
Hok boom sky
Down n down no sound
Hok hook Ooman
Fly Ooman way
Ooman Hok take see no more
No more same fa’iver
Foer King-time Thoom look sky
Yell Oomans “Hok! Hok!”
Oomans run bove ground thick boosh
Hide low Ert
Too slow-too slow
Hok hook many many
Ooman vife not good
Oomans not many not long
Long time foer Thoom
Oomans vive bove Ert
Oomans vive bove boosh
Oomans vive bove sky
Hok no treble Oomans foer time
Hok small Oomans big
Foer time foer Thoom
Oomans make death mong Oomans
Sky boom mush shroom
Ert splode dust oosh
Sky all cloud no sun no rin
No vive low sky
No vive bove Ert
I have a bit to finish of that song. I am on page 4 of probably six or seven, and I have not revised it carefully.
Anyway, I was reading some obscure Percy Shelley stuff the other day, and I decided to mimic his style and his subject for a minute, and the poem started off going great, but I lost the moment, and I struggle to get it back. This is the unrevised fragment. I do not have a title because it is not finished.
Look at me! Do not dare turn your eyes away!
This is the crumbling shell in which we live,
Prickling with stiff hairs of white and gray,
Rigid with vengeful pains that will not forgive.
I know this face’s features. I’ve seen these eyes
Full of joie de vie and mischievous twinkles,
Green and gold like springtide’s first disguise
Gazing back at me beneath lids free of wrinkles.
I recall these pliant lips, the easy smile,
That crinkled in each cheek a happy dimple,
A chin, unbearded, when razors were in style
And shaving the velvety skin was simple.
I remember how we paused at every mirror
In a time when what we saw we loved the most,
Then hated as the images got clearer,
And we found our figures lacking as a host.
Do you still love me? How am I to know?
Your eyes beg the same questions asked of mine?
The time we’ve wasted…we should let it go
And read this wordless silence as sign.
What else? Oh! I got an email from Emma Jones at Austin Macauley. She said that I can expect that Atheists and Empty Spaces will be coming out in July. I wrote back to her, and said, and I quote, "I am prepared to be excited." I sure hope these publishers have something great going on because it seems to have taken an inordinate amount of time to publish this book of poetry.
You know, with all that has been going on, maybe the guy in the sky was a reflection of me. No, I am not evil, but I suspect if you could watch me without me knowing, you would see a lot of angry faces that I make. I will not even bother you with why I am so angry, but trust me. It is righteous anger.
I just looked. I do not have a new picture of a flower, not even one new one of my beloved coneflowers. Hmm...
How about a golden oldie? This is last year's first bloom of the Echinacea.
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