Charles Bukowski. Always contemporary. Beautiful poem over a beautiful video.
After twenty years abroad, sporadically voting at presidential elections at the American Consulate, yesterday I received through the mail my voter I.D. card. Local elections for several local offices have just gone by, but I would not have had a clue on who to vote. A blessing, a delay, in disguise. My next vote can only be cast on the primaries in September next year. Until then, all that is left is to comment on the bizarre American political landscape and wait.
A coyote crossed our lawn three times this Fall. The red-tailed hawk who made a habit out of staring down from the top of the willow seemed unphased. The noisy birds of the region, particularly the crows, silenced in what seemed to be a sign of respect. The deers and their fawn were nowhere to be seen. Smaller animals, chipmunks, rabbits and squirrels, could be seen dashing towards their hiding spots. Each time the coyote walked across, he kept the same pace and seemed uninterested by anything around. Did not turn his head to check the surroundings, did not seem to be hunting; simply walking across the lawn. Headphones playing a bass beat over rap lyrics would have suited him well. He looked bad. His rhythm was more suited to a big cat’s calm sight-seeing when hunting for prey, than that of a big dog, jumping all over his owner in search of love. Continue reading “The Roadrunner dilemma”