Magnificence

In order to photograph the natural world,
one must love that world.

In order to capture the essence of a wild thing,
one must allow it beneath one's skin and never flinch.

Only an amateur,
only a poseur, a human monkey with thumbs,
disrespects his subject.
Let such cardboard-souled dabblers eat scorn and vomit shame.

I have been waiting for hours,
flexing my fingers to restore blood flow,
stamping my feet as quietly as I can,
training my telescopic lens on a mountain side,
hoping to capture an image of the rare and beautiful snow leopard.

Today, she has left her injured mate behind,
and she hunts alone, looking for the nimble mountain sheep.
I am nearly as electrified as the leopard when she spots one,
downwind and oblivious.

I should have left the gin alone last night.
I am finding it hard to maintain concentration,
a recurring fault my ex-wife would be happy to tell you about.
I blink hard and refocus...
Yes, there she is, nearly upon her kill!

Too late to double check my settings,
no time to choose a better angle;
I can almost feel her empty belly in my own body,
and I know how badly she needs this meal.

I put my fingers slowly to my mouth,
and let out a shrill, sharp whistle that echoes off the rocks.
The mountain sheep jerks his head up, then bolts,
and the snow leopard misses him by a body length,
or at most, two.

She turns in a quick circle,
beside herself with furious frustration.
I take several dozen shots at high speed--
Yes! I can demand twice, even three times the going rate
for the best ones.
The cover of a glossy monthly will not be out of the question!

The snow leopard disappears among the rocks high up,
and I put away my gear.
The injured leopard may die tonight. The huntress will not eat.
That's a shame, but I can't keep the grin off my face as I stow the last of my equipment.

This could make my reputation,
and pay for a lot of Tanqueray
and eager whores.
________

for Kerry's challenge at Real Toads: the unreliable narrator.



 
 

A Mouse Tale

(This is the third and final poem for the winners of the Sunday Quiz. Today's poem is for the *official* winner, Lolamouse. She requested that I write something about a mouse, or about the color pink. Enjoy.)

Hickory dickory dock
The mouse ran down the block
The clock struck one
And in she run
To Danny's Coffee Shop.

It is Saturday afternoon.
The Succubus walks into Danny's Coffee Shop wearing ginormous black plastic sunglasses, and a pink ribbon in her raven hair.
The first thing she sees
Is the QOTV
Up on tip toes on the back of a booth,
Back arched
And yowling.

Wtf? she says.
(That's succubus for good morning.)
"She saw a mouse," explains Denise the waitress.
The Dark-Haired Chick is on the other side of the booth with her hand up to her face like a perp, mortified.
Between gritted teeth, she says,
"You are SUCH
a
GIRL!"

Outside, are lots of women
Dressed to the nines
In black and white,
Passing by.

There are also bearded men--
Chloe watches them
And asks the room,
"Why are those guys wearing big napkins?"

The Succubus, now at her customary corner table, looks up and drawls,
"Those are prayer shawls,
You spaz."

Chloe turns around
And squints her eyes,
Working her jaw
Off to the side.

"Well thank you," she says, then adds:
"Nice hair ribbon, Gidget."

Just then,
Savanna the teenage runaway takes her knife out of her boot.
She has the kitten Giuseppe Verdi in her right sweater pocket,
And when she leans down to her left, he goes up as if he were in an elevator.

There is a mouse on the floor.
Savanna holds her knife in front of it, and it
Climbs aboard.
"Going up!" she says, with a smile in her rough voice.

Soon, mouse and kitten are asleep in a pile,
Next to her coffee cup.

"What is this?"
Asks Chloe,
Hand on hip.
"Wild Kingdom?"

"Shh!" scolds Savanna.
"It's nap time!"

It is early Saturday afternoon at Danny's Coffee Shop,
And for just a moment,
Among the succubi, and vampires, and multiple felons,
A peace descends
Like a good house blend
And not a creature is stirring,
(Well, you know the rest.)
The end!


_____

 .

25

(This is the second in a series of three poems for the winners of the Sunday Quiz. Today's poem is for Lynn, who sent me two striking photographs and asked me to write to the one that spoke to me most. Well, Lynn, they both spoke so clearly, I couldn't choose. Here is your poem.)

I was a long way from home.
The season was changing.
With every rustle of the breeze,
I grew older.

Day, night...
They met for dusky assignations,
Emptying into each other
Only in passing.

What was left was
A dog's ass,
A statue without ears, listening,
And a gorgeous hard city that held my tears.

_____ 

Damn The Match

(Note: this poem was written for Sioux, a winner of the Sunday Quiz. She asked for either a poem about writing, or a poem to encourage her students. I hope that this is both.--Shay)

I said, damn the match that set me on fire,
But no one heard--
So I fanned myself with books, and oh
How I burned.

Damn the one who made me feel nothingly small,
This lonesome girl--
Then I spit my anger on a black-curling page,
And blistered the world.

Damn the distance that keeps my love from me,
The miles are sin--
Then I wrote out my love as a pink-fire dawn,
Warm on her skin.

Bless the match that each finger is,
To strike what I feel into words that be
An incendiary flow from soul to sky,
One burned-bright star that's made from...me.

______

linked to d'verse poets

 

Fireblossom's Monday Lethargy Rally

Hello readers. Welcome to Fireblossom's Monday Lethargy Rally. Sorry, there's no coffee because no one bothered to make any.

Here are the rules for Fireblossom's Monday Lethargy Rally:

• show up late and unprepared, if at all
• when addressing the group, mumble
• when addressed by the group, doze off in the middle of it
• bow to the Great Koala
• (koalas live exclusively on eucalyptus leaves, which makes them kind of stoned. If they run out of leaves, and the next tree is too far away, they starve rather than make the trip)
• tell everyone you know about Fireblossom's Monday Lethargy Rally, as long as you don't have to get out of your chair to do so
• zzzzzzzzzzzzzz
•  X   X
•     >
•  --------

Enjoy. And don't forget, any rally worth starting is worth fi

_______

Note: the maid pictured is not my friend Mama Zen's. If it were, she would be talking. This is my maid, who only knows one phrase in English..."maybe later, I'm on break"