The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review

Poem for Thursday and Greensboro Penguins

Magellanic Penguin
By Pablo Neruda

Neither clown nor child nor black
nor white but verticle
and a questioning innocence
dressed in night and snow:
The mother smiles at the sailor,
the fisherman at the astronaunt,
but the child child does not smile
when he looks at the bird child,
and from the disorderly ocean
the immaculate passenger
emerges in snowy mourning.

I was without doubt the child bird
there in the cold archipelagoes
when it looked at me with its eyes,
with its ancient ocean eyes:
it had neither arms nor wings
but hard little oars
on its sides:
it was as old as the salt;
the age of moving water,
and it looked at me from its age:
since then I know I do not exist;
I am a worm in the sand.

the reasons for my respect
remained in the sand:
the religious bird
did not need to fly,
did not need to sing,
and through its form was visible
its wild soul bled salt:
as if a vein from the bitter sea
had been broken.

Penguin, static traveler,
deliberate priest of the cold,
I salute your vertical salt
and envy your plumed pride.


Uneventful Wednesday, mostly chores, throat still not great but sinuses better, tried to go out but a big accident on 270 meant it took fifteen minutes for me to drive just around the corner and I decided that meant I should just go back home. Shutterfly had a free shipping coupon but of course the site was down every time I tried to go take advantage of it.

We watched the season finale of Burden of Truth, which was pretty satisfying if not entirely believable in terms of how quickly things happened, then we started watching the terrible Yankees-As game before putting on the Doctor Who marathon instead after Cheryl reminded us about it. Here are the penguins of the Greensboro Science Center:

2018-09-30 10.50.07

2018-09-30 10.51.25


2018-09-30 10.45.48

2018-09-30 10.53.48

2018-09-30 11.09.31


2018-09-30 10.45.20

  • Greetings from Sugarloaf

    Saturday was a gorgeous day, so after lunch we went on the Countryside Artisans spring tour, which is mostly outdoors and socially distanced -- we…

  • Poem for Saturday and Crab Apple Color

    Crab Apple Trees By Larry Schug I’m tempted to say these trees belong to me, take credit for blossoms that gather sunrise like stained glass…

  • Poem for Friday and Locust Grove

    The Good-Morrow By John Donne I wonder by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we loved? Were we not wean'd till then? But suck'd on country…

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded