February 02, 2005

Foot Prints

snowfootprints_sm.jpg

Heath Hen Meadow, Acton. Feburary, 2001.

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E.D. In Coma

In her mind, in bare feet
she is walking among

April's first
cold
pubic violets, still

here, heaven haunted
her eyes

and lips
closed:
Soon

so soon I'll be a part
of all that I
now merely
see

Franz Wright

Whence that sharp, startled sense of moisture that seems to come from behind one's eyes? Awesome beauty.

Posted by startled.

Wish I could have skiied where those footprints are. It's a wonderful wintry scene. (But where are the pubic violets?)

Posted by rakkity.

Ask Diane, the poet in the family. She has an answer.

Twice, I read public violets.

Posted by michael.

pubic, public...makes no difference. It's a maudlin albeit evocative depressing poem. I don't like it. In fact E.D. is in her coma from reading one Franz Wright's poetry. Either that or she is shielding herself from the State of the Union address. I say she wakes up and recites Green Eggs and Ham. Nice photo though. Pubic violets are no doubt underneath the poetic blanket of snow. I could only guess what Ogden Nash would do with the phrase "pubic violets".

Posted by where's the rhyme.

This photo from the man who claims that his skies never come out right and so he usually crops them. I hope that the sky in this photo was cropped by the camera and not by photoshop...I wish we could see more!

Posted by not afraid of the sky.

Posted by Michael at February 2, 2005 06:56 AM
Comments

Whence that sharp, startled sense of moisture that seems to come from behind one's eyes? Awesome beauty.

Posted by: startledat February 2, 2005 08:12 AM

Wish I could have skiied where those footprints are. It's a wonderful wintry scene. (But where are the pubic violets?)

Posted by: rakkityat February 2, 2005 10:20 AM

Ask Diane, the poet in the family. She has an answer.

Twice, I read public violets.

Posted by: michaelat February 2, 2005 10:47 AM

pubic, public...makes no difference. It's a maudlin albeit evocative depressing poem. I don't like it. In fact E.D. is in her coma from reading one Franz Wright's poetry. Either that or she is shielding herself from the State of the Union address. I say she wakes up and recites Green Eggs and Ham. Nice photo though. Pubic violets are no doubt underneath the poetic blanket of snow. I could only guess what Ogden Nash would do with the phrase "pubic violets".

Posted by: where's the rhymeat February 2, 2005 02:57 PM

This photo from the man who claims that his skies never come out right and so he usually crops them. I hope that the sky in this photo was cropped by the camera and not by photoshop...I wish we could see more!

Posted by: not afraid of the skyat February 4, 2005 11:39 PM