Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
Part of me doesn't believe I am here Three parts of my being have wandered off on a lark: left the hot prairies, turned its back on the sea, nestled here in a bosom of dust between mountains. A river runs through it, they say, like an arrow sunk to its shaft in unwilling flesh. It will lie puzzled in bed: till the sun blinks behind Jumbo, till the 'M' sparkles like bone, till the body groans and gets up. Part of me doesn't believe I am here. Part of me trembles, unwarranted fear. Part of me questions where would I be if I had listened before. But it's the heart that gives out or gives in to this moment. It is lonely, lonely, and eager to hunt. © 2008 Kåre Enga [165.193] 2008-08-11 From the prompt 'part of me doesn't believe I am here'. ME: I felt a bit better today. Took the #1 bus to the mall, had an ab-fab hazelnut gelato at Caffe Dolce. Picked up some paper, but I want more ... a lot more ... so I can start playing with ideas and making books. I bought a marbled design, one of cherry blossoms and another of cherries. But ... I'm really stoked by the variety of cotton, rice and embossed papers available. Other than that, nothing much. Montana: 65º at 22:00. ** Image ID #1295354 Unavailable ** 7167 |