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Sterquilinium: Epiphantile
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Gallus in suo sterquilinio plurimum potest. Tuesday, February 10, 2015. I A tribute to e. e. cummings and Nikki Giovanni. Outrage is just a stone,. It does not melt away,. But it is ground away in the machine,. And becomes a thousand useless little irritations. Yet o (no),. And made even the most . a? And those () dear friend. They belong to JONES. Softer more uncertain than the [],. And our bodies for what they are worth,. Were never meant to be accounted,. And when multiplied, squared, or exponentialed,.
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Sterquilinium: December 2010
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Gallus in suo sterquilinio plurimum potest. Thursday, December 30, 2010. A short play in the style of Yeats (1). Scene: A cottage as you might find in any county, far from the sea. A road, a stone wall behind which are hills webbed with stone walls and dotted with cottages. AGainst the stone wall lies various farming implements, picks, shovels, etc. A young boy is using a hoe in the garden. A man comes on stage. He is old but walks with long strides. Old Man: Go grab your axe, boy and come with me! Old M...
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Sterquilinium: Lightning Bugs (& Glenmorangie)
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Gallus in suo sterquilinio plurimum potest. Thursday, November 29, 2012. Lightning Bugs (& Glenmorangie). Have the power to entrance. With their brief flash of light. In so simple a form. Perhaps the angels wonder alike. At our brief moments of grace. I wanna say just one thing, Begains our most happiest month dec. This month we got victory. So wer verry happy now. I saw a lightning bug once.it was consuming a fairy.I kid you not! Nice poem, by the way. -Visum. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). You are...
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Sterquilinium: February 2015
http://sterquilinium.blogspot.com/2015_02_01_archive.html
Gallus in suo sterquilinio plurimum potest. Tuesday, February 10, 2015. I A tribute to e. e. cummings and Nikki Giovanni. Outrage is just a stone,. It does not melt away,. But it is ground away in the machine,. And becomes a thousand useless little irritations. Yet o (no),. And made even the most . a? And those () dear friend. They belong to JONES. Softer more uncertain than the [],. And our bodies for what they are worth,. Were never meant to be accounted,. And when multiplied, squared, or exponentialed,.
sterquilinium.blogspot.com
Sterquilinium: January 2011
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Gallus in suo sterquilinio plurimum potest. Sunday, January 02, 2011. A short play in the style of Yeats (2). Lady: Aye and the cherries have pebbles and when those pebbles are planted grow in Irish ground and become English trees. Old Man: Says ye that now. I could not agree more. Everything that stands may be commanded. Lady: And ye in the woods with the boy's axe? Old Man: I reckon I plan to be planted to, and then I be as English as any other dead man. Lady: He'll not dig your grave with his axe.
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Sterquilinium: Reflections on the Death of Bin Laden
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Gallus in suo sterquilinio plurimum potest. Monday, May 02, 2011. Reflections on the Death of Bin Laden. The jubilation and triumphalism followed - a kumbaya moment in which the glory of accomplishment outweighed all. But this was ephemeral, and over before it begun, quickly followed by crowds in the street chanting "USA USA USA". But here's what I know:. And, of course, in his speech to the nation, Obama tried to separate the actions taken against Bin Laden from actions taken against Islam. And, he ...
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Sterquilinium: Linus
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Gallus in suo sterquilinio plurimum potest. Tuesday, May 24, 2011. The sun rises over the hills. Her luminescence shattered into beams. By the towers and blocks of a. World, in its middle age,. With sins not excusable by sincerity,. But planned and scheduled like virtues. Feeling has returned to my limbs. That had been numbed by the cold bed. Of stones with the cold air. The old sweet stench inside the jail. Becomes new and bitter in the sunlight. My jailer's breath dampens. And he knows the captain.
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Sterquilinium: March 2011
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Gallus in suo sterquilinio plurimum potest. Thursday, March 24, 2011. Soundlessly swaying, slow slow steps,. One after another, make the carrot swing. Swing, swing, count the seconds. Plodding, plodding, up the long road. Lead us, fool, we follow. The orange stick at the end of the rope. I have long lashes and watery eyes. But my eyes can not see what lies straight ahead. Too slow, feel the sting. Brings the carrot closer. Not sweet the tasteless reward. Ever promised and never given. Nor do I really care.
