"Love that poem. But we don't have much of a harbor in Madison ;)"
True. Plus, with Oscar Meyer packing up and moving on, We don't do much hog butchering anymore. Used to be a city with big shoulders But we turned those all Into bicycle lanes.
And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them: Come and show me another city with lifted head Jumping Around, singing proud and strong so build me up buttercup but don't break my heart.
The dictionary defines "haunch" as "a buttock and thigh considered together, in a human or animal."
It's a word for our time. I remember when the buttocks were not displayed in public, but somehow around 1990s bathing suits got cut higher and higher until the ass was completely outside of the suit and we were supposed to perceive it as the upper part of the leg. The word "haunch" expresses the idea.
Could be an allusion to the way fog sometimes spills down a into a valley and swirls back up in a pattern reminiscent of cat haunches. Or Sandberg was just really high.
Speaking of cats sitting or reclining, my favorite feline pose is when all the legs are tucked in and the tail wraps around and the haunches assume a Thanksgiving turkey-like shape. For some reason I find this composed look amusing. We have a lot of cats around here.
A rather Sacramento look to your neighborhood, especially with the fog, which is also common in the Central Valley. Or for that matter it might as well be Chico, or Forest Hill, San Francisco. Or, I suppose, nearly anywhere, suburban USA.
You must have the nicest front garden on the street. Has Meade's lush and productive beds ramped up the competition among gardening neighbors?
I once lived in a Warwickshire village where growing roses was a keen competition, and front garden displays were much remarked upon. Placing well or winning the at the Countess's county show was a highlight of the growing calendar.
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२४ टिप्पण्या:
Foggy bike ride in at 6 AM. Glasses got all misted over.
The fog comes on little cat feet.
Love that poem. But we don't have much of a harbor in Madison ;)
Fog
BY CARL SANDBURG
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
"Love that poem. But we don't have much of a harbor in Madison ;)"
True. Plus, with Oscar Meyer packing up and moving on,
We don't do much hog butchering anymore.
Used to be a city with big shoulders
But we turned those all
Into bicycle lanes.
And having answered so
I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city,
and I give them back the sneer and say to them:
Come and show me another city with lifted head Jumping Around,
singing proud and strong so build me up buttercup but don't break my heart.
A very San Francisco look you have there.
"silent haunches"
What bullshit is that?
The cat is not farting?
The dictionary defines "haunch" as "a buttock and thigh considered together, in a human or animal."
It's a word for our time. I remember when the buttocks were not displayed in public, but somehow around 1990s bathing suits got cut higher and higher until the ass was completely outside of the suit and we were supposed to perceive it as the upper part of the leg. The word "haunch" expresses the idea.
"silent haunches" = fog makes no sound, and in fact deadens it.
Could be an allusion to the way fog sometimes spills down a into a valley and swirls back up in a pattern reminiscent of cat haunches. Or Sandberg was just really high.
Speaking of cats sitting or reclining, my favorite feline pose is when all the legs are tucked in and the tail wraps around and the haunches assume a Thanksgiving turkey-like shape. For some reason I find this composed look amusing. We have a lot of cats around here.
Hog
BY CARL THE OSCAR MAYER WORKER
The hog comes
down the conveyor.
It sits looking
As my electric saw removes
Its silent haunches
and then moves on
My only takeaway from reading a meteorology book many years ago: morning fog means this will be a sunny day.
The frogs come
on little flat feet.
A rather Sacramento look to your neighborhood, especially with the fog, which is also common in the Central Valley. Or for that matter it might as well be Chico, or Forest Hill, San Francisco. Or, I suppose, nearly anywhere, suburban USA.
Spielbergian!
Season of mist and mellow fruitfulness
Elizabeth @ 9:42:
Awesome. I laughed out loud. Nice work in few words. I liked the hog one too butt...
You have rain there. Must be nice. (shout out to buwaya puti from Sacramento County).
"You have rain there. Must be nice."
No, it's not. I'm trying to build a deck. I should have built a freakin' ark.
You must have the nicest front garden on the street. Has Meade's lush and productive beds ramped up the competition among gardening neighbors?
I once lived in a Warwickshire village where growing roses was a keen competition, and front garden displays were much remarked upon. Placing well or winning the at the Countess's county show was a highlight of the growing calendar.
Ann, if you find yourself coming up against Carl Sandburg, you should consider that you may be in the wrong.
Because you are
Blogger MadisonMan said..."Love that poem. But we don't have much of a harbor in Madison ;)"
There's Spring Harbor.
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