Saturday, September 29, 2012

A Delicate Rain of Pianos

—Photo Enhancement by D.R. Wagner, Elk Grove


A delicate rain of pianos.
A drift of long-handled shovels.
Tentfulls of young puppies
Crawling upon typewriters.
What a charming morning for
Mr. Charles Dartless as he combed
The horizon and the hair on his
Bactrian’s back, mounted the saddle
And went looking for a fine lady
Upon a white horse who actually
Worked for an active hose company
In Western New York and had announced
In her newsletter that there
Would be refreshments and a
Light meal after the performance
Of her symphony.  The bag
Pipe players were chagrinned as usual
And were only heard after
11:00 PM.  However they could
Choose to have that hour at
Any time during the show.



Named, of all possible names, Renaud
Had undone his waistcoat much too
Early and had consequently, accidentally
Informed a lovely blue, almost lavender
Hedgehog who, until recently had sold
Accident insurance to families of beavers
Who had lived in the area since before
The French and Indian Wars, but who
Were currently involved with a rather
Simple barn owl who occupied an
Old Ford chassis near what some people
Would call the town water supply,
But which I will have no truck
With in any shape, that he was dangerously close to him.
I then stopped and picked up the top of Renaud’s beak
Which had somehow become detached
With his constant imitations of dogs
And cats fighting and re-attached it,
Admonishing him not to be so careless
As to reduce this situation any further,
Apologize and please realize that this
Was indeed, a work-a-day world.


Rattlesnakes of Saltbern Flat would find
Themselves used, when required to be
Used, as tires for an
Old motorcar owned by a young girl
Who up until this morning had been employed
Making sandwiches by the hundreds
For that same army of frogs we had
Spoken to in Restively, near the
Seine.  She had had it and
Was quite taken by the ride
That hissing and rattling concoction
Of impossible to contain improvised
Tires provided as it went on the way in a most
Curious manner, as if it actually
Had an appointment to keep.
“There’s one now,” she said, letting loose
With a huge spanner and
Accidentally breaking a window in the
Place she previously used to work.

Entering the Room


Have come to see that sulking
Old gull, Morrison said as he flung
Quite a large number of teddy bears
At Doris Mamore who was still
Making mirrors at the edge of a stream
From almost anything she could find.
Needless to say, they didn’t work
All that well but did prove great
Fun for a pod of not-quite-gray whales
Who grew quite fond of using them
For target practice almost every
Day just before lunch “Krill, krill,
Krill,” they would say, laughing in the
Squelchy way they do to attract as
Much attention to themselves as possible.


Where’s your beautiful mystery now
Mr. Fear?  Grow some new parts
Like the trees do as they gentle
The afternoon.  You can suspend
Your beliefs off some cliff
Or maybe there will only
Be the Enchantment.  They have
An entire State for that one. Keep
Your hands off these things.  What
Are you trying to trying to fill our cities
With anyway?  What would you give
For some perfect white bird
Seen rising from a swamp?
Your eyes?  Your mouth? 
Your sweet life?


Today's LittleNip:

Art is not to throw light but to be light...

—Kenneth Patchen


—Medusa, with thanks to D.R. Wagner for today's fare!

 Living Near the Void
—Photo Enhancement by D.R. Wagner