Tuesday, April 08, 2008

April 7 2008

On the Bearskin Rug in Front of the Fire I Construct the Following Tableau:

I decapitate the ceiling of its ceiling fan. Invert fan, set great-great-granny atop. Mount her atop. From her mouth drips the pull chain. Pull it, and out pops the wolf’s head, bare in some spots, mange-ridden, rid of teeth, one eye vacant and the other eye boiling. Pull it twice, and out pops the lumberjack, crammed deep his own axe. Set the lights to blazing, the blades to spinning, and great-great-granny rises like Shiva. Narrate: A long for the ride.

[tour notes, gush-thanks, and surprises to follow, but meanwhile not to fall behind NaPoWriMo]

2 Comments:

Blogger evie said...

this poem is fantastic!! obviously, the road trip didn't exhaust you, but got you completely revved up...

9:45 PM  
Blogger D said...

Thanks, Evie! You, too, revved, "salt-sweet cackalack!!"

11:28 PM  

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