Skip to main content

Feeding Fiona

(As if Fuin Mac Cumhal and the Salmon of Knowledge had a heroine instead.)

Why bury your wild heart?
Honor that rakish salvation 
from soap and Jane Austin.

It’s neither silk purse nor 
sow's ear. Why bother with 
the quest for a perfect way?

Tunnel the worm holes into 
ninth dimension tomorrow. 
These notions for life, for duty -

so quickly they fill with 
dust like puddles in August.
If you neglect the beveled 

lips of agate, framing you 
beside feral kin, proud light 
bends obliquely from miracle.

When you giggle madly as 
a pod of girls in skirts blue
and billowing - veils swing open.

Hold this passage like April
holds spring. The earth aches
for each seed and feathered 

song; desires grubby fingers 
to probe the iron laced fissures,
they map our fault line. Follow

the dark thread home; 
nose to wind. Chase every 
sanguine urge. Crave 

the Golden Salmon roasting
on hot coals. The best morsels 
wait for your hungry tongue.

Feed Fiona and croon 
to your wild heart.
Don’t bury her again.

-- rosalynn cimino

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Covid19 Journey Day 27

April 17, 2020 Today’s celebration – Last May I attended the annual school fundraising gala.   Browsing the items on the silent auction tables, I found nothing that that stirred my avarice, so I took another tack and decided to find things that I could have fun with or devise pleasure from, as a way to justify some necessary opening bids.   There was an impressive box of chocolate bars with a couple bottles of red on which I entered the first bid, and I paused at a wooden crate with another pair of wines, nice glasses and a gift certificate for a charcuterie tray.   The vintner of the Pinot Noir and Chardonnay was Kosta Browne. Without a thought of the initial bid being the winning bid, I scratched my offer on line #1 - $150. I did covet a set of hand thrown mugs from our headmaster’s wheel, but found my bid lost in the healthy bid escalations.   By the end of the evening though, I was the winner of the box of wine and chocolate and the two bottles of Kosta Browne.   Once at home
1 comment
Read more

Pandemic Journey Day 49

May 9, 2020 Today’s mind experiment – this morning, I launched the thought experiment by watching a shared video called Coronavirus from Outer Space – Professor Wickramasinghe, Astrobiologist.  The channel is Green Tara Guru. The production behind Dr. Wickramasinghe’s mini-lecture was fun; his home office video was surrounded by a frame, embellished with space CGI and supporting image video clips for what he is describing at any moment, as well as, a celestial music soundtrack.  (My students would love if I were able to produce such lecture videos for them.) It was released May 1, 2020, and has a paltry three hundred fifty-nine views, one of which is mine.  After watching the video, I did my customary search about Dr. Wickramasinghe’s background.  He is a broadly publish an award-winning British mathematician and astronomer born in Sri Lanka in 1939. In the 1960’s he worked with theoretical physicist Dr. Fred Hoyle on a radical kind of panspermia (the idea that life is distributed thro
Post a Comment
Read more

2020 Pandemic Journey Day 44

May 4, 2020 Today’s idea – What has the fog of our modern conveniences begat? I read an article last night published in 1950 by Berton Roueche’ titled The Fog . In October 1948, a toxic smog settled on the borough of Donora, PA. This town is tucked away on a meander of the Monongahela River in the Allegheny Mountains.   During that time, it was home to three huge mills, a steel plant, and a zinc and sulfuric acid plant. The towering factory stacks of these industries pushed out thick plumes of coal smoke all day and all week. Also, given the town’s proximity to the river, boats and trains added their emission to the cocktail. To seal the deal, Donora sits in the topography of secluded bluffs and hills that allow for little or no wind to carry the smoke and fumes out of town.   So the place was known to be a smutty, smokey mess, tolerated by residents who referred to the sulfurous stench as the smell of money. On this weekend in October, a thermal inversion put a tighter lid of the
Post a Comment
Read more