Monday, May 18, 2020

Murder hornets...

get bad press, shock.

"The name can be off-putting for sure but, hey, we're just guys. Out to party, where's the harm in that?" Said Jaime 'One-Eye' O'Grady, Press Officer for Savage Sting, the main collective representing insects menacing the public good.

"Before we break for lunch." Jaime told waiting reporters, "I'd like to take this opportunity to mention those who have  fallen and specifically the beloved but eccentric Harriet ‘Snapped Mandible' Perry, pictured, who departed this life impaled on a finger. Finally, there's a free bar so please help yourselves. Thank you."


Friday, May 15, 2020

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower. By Dylan Thomas


The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.
The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman’s lime.
The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather’s wind
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.
And I am dumb to tell the lover’s tomb
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.
by Dylan Thomas

Wednesday, May 06, 2020

The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost...


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Friday, May 01, 2020

Clinging confers evolutionary advantage...




in anole lizards reports The New York Times. Denizens of the Caribbean, anole lizards have developed larger footpads enabling them to hold on during the hurricane and leaf blower seasons. Vulnerable to the slightest breeze smaller lizards fail the sturdy grip test on an almost daily basis. Jeremiah I-Can-Lick-My-Own-Eye Bing, Official Spokeslizard of Those Destined for the Dustbin of History Collective was swept away by a sudden gust whilst talking with journalists. His words are spoken by an actor, "Absence of the sturdy grip doesn't mean we can't feel love... is it that a draught? HOLY FUCK..."

Gineen Longclaw, pictured, speaking for no-one but herself said, "Bollocks to the smallies. Evolution can go fuck itself too. Look at me, Ma! I can do this one with one hand..."


* Evolution loves a clinger, follow link for further examples.




Wednesday, April 29, 2020

Two poems by William Carlos Williams...


This Is Just To Say


I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold


The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens

Benson...









among the dandelions.

Thursday, April 23, 2020

Dog on wheels...

from Prince Edward Island Museum in Canada is also part of York Museum's creepiest objects exhibition. Cursed, apparently, to move without volition the tri-pedal dog can be left in one place only to be found in another later.

I once loved a dog on wheels, fervently, until it was thrown onto a garage roof by some rough boys and never seen again. They were older than me, probably 8 and 9. I still see that dog, sailing overhead, wheels turning, its look of consternation matching my own.




Tuesday, April 21, 2020

York Museum...

is curating an exhibition of creepy objects collected in museums.

The Mermaid is in the Edinburgh Museum collection.

Contrast the seascape, an idyll of gentle swells and sail boats littering the far horizon. The gaze lingers on this pleasing image but only briefly before the half pink, half fish horror captures the attention with an iron grip. What is the viewer to make of that open mouth, swollen lips, the dynamic pose forever frozen in a glass fronted box?

We can but imagine the psychosis from which this creature emerged. Is there not though, when the light falls just so, a sadness in those button eyes?