tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67408808029211205882024-03-13T15:17:59.426+00:00Writing For The BinAfter writing off and on for many years, I said to myself one day, "Holy Crap, I'll never make a living as a writer." and began writing with the full knowledge that much of my work would be rubbish and therefor destined for the bin. Generally, I write something, shove it in my bureau, read it, then toss it in the bin. My husband rescues them from the bin, waits a year, then hands them back to me. I have posted some of them here.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01681799401614263953noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6740880802921120588.post-13685712229988997002011-05-04T23:49:00.000+01:002011-05-10T07:06:22.342+01:00My Mind Went A'Wandering<em>Published in <strong><u>The Alogonquin </u></strong>(Spring 1998, Volume 4, Number 1)</em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Across the space</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> you sit</span></em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">spread kneed, jeans pulled tight</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">into vectored angles.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> Fingertipped</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">my eyes explore the denim and</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">my mind goes a'wandering </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> down</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">zippered paths whose teath</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">feel cold against mine.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> Your tongue</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">forms questions and mine</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">responds in answeres innocent</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> We talk</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">of things past and present,</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">then you lean back</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> hands behind head</span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>and my mind goes a'wandering</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>through a tangle of sheets, of hair </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em> of limbs</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>sweat soaked, entwined.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Reality, rent</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em> repaired.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>I return to tenses present </em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>and from behind veiled eyes say</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em> goodbye</em></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01681799401614263953noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6740880802921120588.post-71970766996971981072011-05-04T23:22:00.000+01:002011-05-10T06:34:31.695+01:00The Misadventures of Jack Randall<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have written this collection of short stories about my father-in-law (a rather stout man as you shall later see). The events contained in these stories are all true</span></em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong>Jack and The Picnic Table</strong></span><br />
</span></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Dawn, the moment between slumbering and awakening, the moment when time taps with quiet insistence upon eyelids as if begging them to open That is the moment when most of us fall blissfully back to sleep, feigning indifference to those gentle taps. But not Jack Randall.</span><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">No, Jack is up before dawn insisting that the sun arise because he is ready for it to do so. Unlike the rest of us, the sun ignores him, but only because it is too far away for him to pummel it into submission. If it were 10 feet closer, it too would listen, if only to get him to shut up.</span><br />
</span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> J</span>ack heaves himself out of bed (Jack is 350 lbs. this requires a considerable amount of heaving), places his bare feet upon the carpeted floor and stomps into the bathroom for a shower, shave and a shit His wife, Karen, remains asleep, truly asleep, not pretend asleep as most of us would do in her place How does she continue to sleep with Jack rumbling, mumbling and stomping around at 4:00 a.m.? Why the same way she sleeps through his 9.5 on the rector scale snoring Karen is a smart woman, she wears earplugs to bed.</span><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> After his morning ablutions are complete, Jack dons his bib overalls, his favorite pair of bibs in fact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why is this particular pair of bibs his favorite? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Simply put, they are the only ones that still fit him. Jack grabs his shoes from the floor, and sits on the bed to put them on. Amazingly his wife Karen remains asleep. After more stomping, mumbling, coughing and cursing, Jack is out the door. He climbs into the Dodge pickup parked in the garage, fires the engine, opens the garage door and is now free to do as he damn well pleases. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: 12pt;">By the time he reaches the end of the lane and turns onto the road, the sun emerges. Jack responds to it by saying “About damn time you got up you bastard”. Driving with purpose, Jack is on his way to the second most important part of his day (the first being popping the tab on a cold beer). It’s now time for the men to gather at the picnic table in town, the one reserved only for those gentleman who have lived long enough to earn the right to tell everybody else what to do. It is here, at this picnic table in the park where the first of three breakfasts are consumed, when politics are discussed, gossip is exchanged and the world is turned aright.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: 12pt;">Arriving exactly at 5:30 Jack approaches the picnic table. None of the other men are there as of yet. This is both puzzling and annoying to Jack, because for the second time this day, something has caused him to wait (the damn sun being the first). Jack grumbles, coughs, scratches, complains then hitches up his overalls as he prepares to lower himself onto the end of the picnic table. Clearly, Jack has not thought this through, he does not yet realize that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. </span><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: 12pt;">When 350 pounds of Jack Randall, descends upon the farthest most end of the picnic table, the other end (as it is not bolted to the ground) flips over 180 degrees, pinning Jack beneath it. The first thought that enters Jacks head is not “Holy crap, I’m trapped underneath a picnic table” rather it is, “Where the hell are those bastards, they’re late” Jack remains unconcerned about his predicament, after all this is not the first time that he has found himself in a situation that would scare most of us shitless<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, Jack knows in the very core of his being that eventually everything will turn out all right. Jack has a great deal of experience with calling deaths bluff while holding only a pair of deuces.</span><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> As fate would have it, (fate has a way of responding to Jacks wishes, as unlike the sun it is close by) his friends arrive. After some not so stifled laughing, the picnic table is lifted. Does Jack respond by saying “Thanks guys, you really saved my life” No, Jack simply says <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Why are you all late?” and “Did any of you pecker heads bring coffee?”<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><a name='more'></a><br />
</span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Jack Teaches His Son A Life Lesson<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In this installment of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Misadventures of Jack Randall</i>, Jack has not yet grown into the supreme potentate that he will become in his later years. (as of yet, Jack has not given voice to the idea that he will one day own an island in the Caribbean, and rule over said island from the seat of wave-runner that sports a skull and cross bones flag on its handles). In this story Jack is but a young man, married to his lovely wife Karen and raising three children Kelly, Kim and Mike.</span></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It is Jacks’ eldest son, Kelly that we are concerned with today. At this point in the story you may well be asking yourself “Kelly, wait a minute, isn’t Kelly a girl’s name?” Why yes, the name Kelly is typically associated with the fairer sex. You might then ask “Why would anyone give their eldest son a girl’s name?” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Does this have anything to do with teaching a boy to become a man against ridiculous odds as the character in the song by Johnny Cash <em><u>'</u>A Boy Named Sue' </em> must do?” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, that would be obvious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The name comes from a film Jack liked, <em>'Pete Kelly's Blues'</em>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently Jacks’ wife, Karen, was heavily sedated when the name Kelly was settled upon rather than the more sensible name Pete. </span></span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Our story begins on a Sunday in high summer, one of those long luxuriant days of still perfection, against which we measure all future summers, a day in which Jack has been left unsupervised with one of his children (as we shall see in future installments, when left unsupervised on a Sunday, Jack tends to do more of what he damn well pleases than on any other day of the week). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Jack sits comfortably in his recliner mulling over what to do before the game starts. Taking a quick look at his watch and a long look at his beer, Jack decides that there is enough time before kick-off to teach his eldest son a life lesson. Having been an Eagle Scout in his teen years, Jack knows just the kind of thing that an eight year old boy needs to know when living in close proximity to a densely wooded area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It is time the boy learns how to locate a road when lost in the woods” Jack tells the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jack looks at Kelly and says “Come on, we’re taking a walk.” And so father and son walk towards the woods and into what Jack is sure will be a memory that he and his son will share for a lifetime.</span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Where we goin’ Dad?” Kelly looks up at his giant of a father and asks. “Well, son, I’m going to teach you how to find your way out of any woods, any woods at all. That’s what we’re going to do today.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jack responds with the kind assurance that only a man who is always right carries in voice. “Yeah, I’ve seen something like that on the TV. Find north by looking for the moss on the side of the tree” says Kelly hoping to impress his father with his knowledge. “No, no. Not like that, not like that at all” Jack stops and looks down at his son. “You see, Kelly, north might not lead you home, north might even lead you deeper into the woods” Jack pauses for a moment preparing to teach his son something useful, something that just might save his life one day, something a father wants more than anything else to teach his son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If you want to get out of the woods you need to find a road. And the best way to find a road is to find telephone wires and follow them.” </span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Kelly looks at his father, looks at the telephone wires just visible through the top of the trees, screws up his eight year old face and pictures the wires leading straight and true towards a road and to safety.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jack sees that his son understands and not prone to being maudlin, cuts the moment short and continues to walk deeper into the woods, where Jack promptly trips over a vine.</span></span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Son-of-a-bitch” Jack yells at the vine. Jack realizes that he has just said something, that if repeated by his eight year old son will get him into serious trouble with his wife “Oh shit”, did I say that out loud?” he says out loud. “Aw dammit, now I’m in for it” he says again even louder. Jack realizes that the fall has in some way disengaged the edit function that connects his brain to his tongue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jack wisely decides to keep what he says next short. “Don’t repeat any of that to your mother,” Jack commands, communicating his meaning more with his expression than with words. With the knack only an eight year old boy has, Kelly interprets the words on his fathers’ face and nods. “All right then, let’s keep moving” Jack says, knowing with relief that all is again right in the world.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Up ahead Jack sees the electric fence that serves to keep livestock out of the woods. Where one man might see danger, Jack sees opportunity. It’s now time for Jack to teach his son another life lesson. Now, you might be thinking to yourself “Oh no, this is going to end badly” or perhaps even “No, no, don’t do it kid, don’t touch the fence, you’ll get electrocuted.” Remember the fall, the fall that damaged Jacks edit function? </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Could the fall have damaged more than just an edit function we might ask? Against all reason (or maybe just to piss reason off) Jack tells his son to touch the fence. </span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Okay Dad,” Kelly says and grabs the fence. As the laws of physics dictate, Kelly’s hand completes the circuit and sends electricity from the fence through his body. The end result being that Kelly’s hand spasmodically clutches the fence more tightly. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jack reacts quickly, lifts Kelly from the ground and pulls him away from the fence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having broken the circuit, Jack sits Kelly on the ground. Jack examines Kelly’s hands. “No burns, thank God.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Kelly, you okay?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kelly nods “Yeah.” Clearly Kelly is not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really </i>okay. Maybe on the outside, but not on the inside, no sirees bob not on the inside, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>not at all. Even if his dad tells him not to tell mom, Kelly is going to tell. Oh yes, he is going to tell. “Well son, now you know not to touch an electric fence” Jack pronounces and they begin the trek home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>By the time they get home, Jack realizes that his son is going to rat him out on this one. There’s no way to avoid it, I mean really, electrocuting your son?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember, this is still a young Jack, and he has not yet acquired the skill needed to tap dance his way out of something this big. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You may have guessed by now that Kelly does tell his mother what happened. But the question then remains, what does Karen <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do?</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Does she yell, throw things, and threaten to tell her mother what Jack has done? No, Karen is a smart woman. She uses the most dreadful of all weapons. She goes silent. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And not just a little silent, no this is the kind of deadly silence that is louder than any scream and goes on far, far longer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Jack knows it too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What Jack is now asking himself is “How many days will this last?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well if she’s not going to talk to me, might as well go to the bar” he thinks to himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(As Jack really did say this to himself and not out loud, it would appear that Jacks edit function is now back on-line).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Goin’ to Henry’s” Jack tosses the words behind his back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jack knows Karen has heard him and also knows she will not reply, but he says them anyway, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just in case.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell she’s already got one gripe against him, best not to give her another one. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When Jack arrives at Henry’s, he barely notices that the game has just begun and so heads straight to the bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The words “Hey Jack” come at him from some far-distant haze.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jack lowers himself onto the stool, does his best impression of a man who is not in trouble with his wife and says “Which one of you pecker heads is going to buy me a beer?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01681799401614263953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6740880802921120588.post-9019033583729598722011-05-04T07:46:00.003+01:002011-09-04T13:38:30.196+01:00Coneja<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I composed this piece in Spanish, as that is how it came to me. The syntax of the language, with poetry inherent, lent itself to the images I was trying to capture</span></i></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Book Antiqua;"> I hold a doctoral degree in science and my area of specialty is wildlife biology and population genetics. This poem desribes the brutal, yet elegant relationship that exists between predator and prey animals. The evening before I wrote this poem, I saw a great horned owl take a rabbit. Enough said.</span></strong></div><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOLLOWS THE ORIGINAL SPANISH<o:p></o:p></span></i></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Published in <u>The Algonquin, </u><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Spring 1998, Volume 1, Number 4)</span><br />
<div align="center"><br />
<strong><em>CONEJA</em></strong></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Atravieso este desierto de nieve,<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">dejando huellas de luz encharcada; mi<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">paso solo un susurro<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">suave<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">como entre amantes,<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Un aro de árboles se levanta<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Book Antiqua;">denudo</span></strong><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">en súplica a una luna embaazada<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">hinchada con la noche,<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Como si conjuado, tú apaecieses de<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">donde la necesidad aúlla:<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Book Antiqua;">¿Te inventé?</span></strong><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Memorizada, tu forma; perfección</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">passada, alma seca, como agua<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>te bebo,<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">El latido en tu garganta, su vibración<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">confunde mis sentidos,<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>Seperados<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">más que por la distancia, por la<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">esencia, por el significado;<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>si pudiera ser tú.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Eres mi depradador, yo tu presa,<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>Tu carne,<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">El tiempo parpadea, una pausa, una<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">extensión de alas, el ave de rapiña asciende,<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">¡Corre! ¡Huye!<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>sensate perdida,<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Una sinfonia de dolor, un crujir de hueso,<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Un arranque de tendón;<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>agonia exquisita,<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">salvaje dolor,<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Mi sangra besa la tiera,<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>una flor virgen<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">se abre roja contra una sábana blanca,<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Carne en carne, la eternidad termina,<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>Por fin<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">me conces.<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Translation from Spanish to English</span> </span></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Book Antiqua;">RABBIT</span></em></strong></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I cross this desert snow, leaving<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">prints of puddled light; my passing<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">only a whisper<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>soft<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">as between lovers.<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">A ring of trees stand,<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>naked<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">in supplication to a moon, pregnant<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">swollen with night.</span></b><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">As if conjured, you appear from a place<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">of howling need;<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>Did I invent you?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Memorized, your form; perfection<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">perched, soul parched, like water<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>I drink you.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">The pulse-beat at your throat, its<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">vibration confounds my senses.<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Separated<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">by more than distance, by essence, by<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">meaning;<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>I feel you.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">You are my predator, I your prey,</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>your meat.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Time blinks, a pause, a spread of<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">wings, the raptor ascends.<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>Sanity misplaced.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">A symphony of pain, a crushing of bone,<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">tearing of sinew;<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>exquisite agony,<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">savage ache.</span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Blood kisses the ground,<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>a virgin flower<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">blossoms red against a sheet of white<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Flesh into flesh, eternities end<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 6;"> </span>At last<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">as one.<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0px;"><br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01681799401614263953noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6740880802921120588.post-24508454322270047002011-05-04T07:29:00.001+01:002011-06-05T06:16:14.423+01:00Before Jazz<em><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This poem is dedicated to my husband. It is a reflection of the time we spent alone together before the birth of our daughter whose name is Jazz.</span></em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Sepia memories edgewise slip</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">past days piled high</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">like laundry into years.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Before Jazz, you,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">with your Flamingo smile</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">proposed a marriage consummate with myth</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">and nodding mounted my assent.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">In days early</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">while sleeping late,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">time in limbo waited</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">among a detritus of desire,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">entangled we lay</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Your tongue cuneiform traced</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">against sibilant skin</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">and with patterns cunning</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">wove a life.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">With reptilian need,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">we clutched flingertips</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">callused from too much play</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">and spent ouselves in time.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01681799401614263953noreply@blogger.com0