The Mask, The Mirror, and The Past

"A distant future" photography by Raluca Caragea

On the squirrel-grey highway where they run 

Fleet as deer, a scrabble and a puff of fur,

All the  boards beneath their paws 

Are dreaming wolves

Dreaming shadows and the hunt

With knothole eyes and rain-stain paws--

On that fence-line highway hangs the glass.

I'll conjure, yes, I'll lay the glass for you

You'll see what came before you

All the echoes where you live will swim

Like monstrous bones from the blind underneath

Swim through stone and clay and silver

All the way to the watery glass.

You've displaced all this. 

It was here, they were here

And now you're here.

See the forest and the machines and the fire

See the years burning the forest into thickness

Watch the bulldozers putting the green flame out

It was here, they were here

And now you're here.

You want cards and fortune and hope

But the only face I wear is the mask

And the mirror and the past.

Good morning! Still keeping a list of all the creatures that visit the yard--mostly birds (which, given the fact I'm kinda hopeless at identification are, mostly, mockingbirds and  probably sparrows...lots and lots of sparrows), lizards (basic anoles) and garden spiders. Last night I had a terrible dream about snakes invading the house (someone has turned the weather to pre-heat summer broil) and yesterday I did see a squirrel on the fence...it's both fascinating in the idea of a miniature habitat (it's a small yard) and weirdly barren. I mean, nothing larger than a squirrel could live in the midst of the people and dogs and cats here; the neighborhood is a mass of land that doesn't actually support but, in a sense, drains resources from those who live there...

*blank screen, interstitial music, technical difficulties notice*

And the roses are lovely, aren't they?

Hope the week to come brims with creative awareness! Stay safe, everyone.

-- Chrissa