A sea-side rose —
the old interpreter holds it
up to his ear
*
Link.
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- Bridge to Nowhere
- Natural Faculties
- (Re-)Claiming the Body
- Ceiling snakes
- Train Song
- Surgery of the Absurd
- Notes toward a taxonomy of sadness
- Weeding
- Blanket
- Forecast
- Curriculum Vitae
- Lullaby
- Fist
- On Reading The Separate Rose by Pablo Neruda
- Gibbous
- Song of the Millipede
- Autumn haibun
- Bread & Water
- Jersey Shore
- Initiation
- October dusk
- Goodnight moon
- Antidote
- The Starlings
- To the Child I Never Had
- Ambitions
- Learn Harmonica Today
- Two-line haiku
- Sleeper Cell
- Unchurched
- Turnips
- Homiletics
- Magic Carpet
- When the Wind is Southerly
- Connection
- Ground Beetle
- Étude for the World’s Smallest Violin
This doesn’t have to do with the poem (does a sea-side rose smell salty?), but I found something I thought you’d appreciate: This porcupine thinks he’s a dog!
Oh yeah, that video’s great! It never occurred to me that one could pet a porcupine if wearing sturdy enough gloves.
I think he’s chewing on the gloves too…
I was amused by how enthusiastic he gets about getting the attention… quite a contrast to their usual shyness.