Sprintedon Hollow

Venturings


 [ Today has been a signal day: a day of mysteries.
   A goodly portion of this now 4:30 pm Friday, I
   spent searching for something I have yet to find;
   however, in the midst of that search I have found
   two somethings I did not expect to find.  The
   latter of those I am sharing here: it is my old . . . ]





 Sprintedon


 spurious, sequacious
 airy bones,
 dik-dik of dinosaurs,
 ginkgos shimmer where you bound,
 springy mosses emulate,
 ferns bower.
 Should we wonder,
 unwilling to accept a saurian so delicate,
 your green green-bean-seed eggs deceived us
 for 230 years?

    Is the dance of the mayfly
    a sort of laughter in this regard?

 Perhaps it was you
 Alden St. Cloud
 caricatured in his logo
 after we humans became for him thinking lizards.
 Certainly, if anyone
 was likely to believe in your existence,
 Alden was.
 I never did ask him though,
 though he did request
 Boston ferns
 and several bowls of yellow fruit
 the week he died.

    This afternoon:
    20 or so minutes ago,
    my eyes bleary,
    I swayed them through our den's bay window
    to the deep yard's edge;
    when the hot airs there
    riffled the flat-topped barberry,
    ghostly quaverings
    flickered in them,
    & winks
    of Jurassic suns:
                            sprintedons!




-
for copyright information see homepage     Brian A. J. Salchert                  

|  Add to del.icio.us |  digg this