R.L. Swihart's Blog, page 76

Kingbird

 Long Beach. Colorado Lagoon. Another friend (from a park on the edge of the lagoon) who's reluctant to pose: the western kingbird. Certainly he deserves a solo post. It's always Xmas for the king.

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#kingbird

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#birds

#poetry

#walking 

Christmas Eve in LB

 Christmas Eve in LB. "Welkin descending" on Saddleback + the Marina. Scattered "drops" and a beautiful walk.

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Happy Holidays

 Colorado Lagoon and Beyond. Happy Holidays!

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Colorado Lagoon: Xmas

 Colorado Lagoon. An uneasy pair. The birds love to sit on the floating black tubes used to channel electrical cords to the buoyed Xmas trees. Happy Holidays!

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Chekhov: Sakhalin

The walls and ceiling seemed to be covered with funeral crape, moving as if in a wind; from isolated spots in the crape which scurried along swiftly and raggedly one could guess what this seething, overflowing mass consisted of. A rustling and loud whispering could be heard, as if the cockroaches and bugs* were hurrying somewhere and conferring.

Gnatcatcher @ Colorado Lagoon

 Long Beach. Colorado Lagoon. A bit better pic of my little gnatcatcher. (He's all over the place.)

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D'Orsay Clock

 Paris. D'Orsay. Not a clear day and only my phone (need to return and get a better pic). Winter, I believe.

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https://www.albany.edu/offcourse/issu...

Chekhov: Sakhalin

 However, one grey-haired old man, sixty to sixty-five years old, Terekhov by name, who was being kept in the dark punishment cell, produced on me the impression of a real villain. The day before my arrival, he had been punished with the lash, and when our conversation turned to this he showed me his buttocks, which were dark-blue-crimson from bruises. According to the prisoners’ stories, this old man had murdered sixty people in his time; he was alleged to have carried on in the following fashion: he would spy out which of the newly arrived prisoners were a bit better off, and entice them into escaping with him; then, in the taiga, he would kill them and rob them, and in order to hide the traces of the crime, he would cut the corpses into pieces and throw them in the river. The last time they had tried to capture him, he had defended himself against the overseers by brandishing a large oak cudgel. Looking at his dull, tinny eyes, and his large, half-shaven skull, angular as a cobblestone, I was prepared to believe all these stories.

Chekhov: Sakhalin

The whole way to Dooay, screes can be seen on the steep, sheer coastline, on which here and there specks and strips glint blackly, an arshin to a sazhen in width; this is coal. The strata of coal here, according to specialists’ accounts, are squeezed between layers of sandstone, slatey clay, clayey slate and clayey sand, which have been lifted, bent, moved or pushed down by seams of basalt, diorites and porphyry which jut out in many spots in large outcrops. It must be considered beautiful after its own fashion, but prejudice against the place is so deep-seated that you regard not only the people but even the plants with pity that they grow in this particular spot of all places. Seven versts further on, the shoreline is broken by a fissure. This is the Voyevodsk Chasm; here, quite alone, stands the dreadful Voyevodsk Prison, in which are kept the hardened criminals, including those chained to wheelbarrows. Sentries patrol round the prison; apart from them not another living creature may be seen about, and it seems as if they are guarding some kind of rare treasure in the wilderness.

R L Swihart's "Triptych: Ninety Versts"

My poems "Triptych: Ninety Versts" are up at Off Course, Issue #83, December 20. A little different for me (perhaps). Give it a try.

https://www.albany.edu/offcourse/issu...

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