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'" ![]() "Where grows the compost heap" ![]() "A radiant moon has set" ![]() "Speak soft my name" ![]() "Plain cover jacket" ![]() Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" ![]() "Death of Jeannie New Moon" ![]() "Winter: 18 Mas'il (December 29)" ![]() "When is it proper to tell someone you love them?" ![]() "Half-naked dreams? 'Getting the stain out of genes!" ![]() "Guitarman, a gift for Gary. Aaron Marable's art." ![]() FACES ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() PLACES ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Kåre ![]() ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
1. It glowed. Golden, shimmering to entice the unsuspecting and the greedy. I chose the grungiest door I could find. I'd rather go to a common hell than a heaven of fake do-gooders, or worse, a fake heaven of gold-diggers. 2. The last time I saw her, her heart was adorned with a spider brooch of false gold. I quickly strode to the grungiest door I could find, hoping she wasn't on the other side. 68.103 |