It's a beautiful day in Costa Rica. In fact, all of the days have been beautiful. The light rain showers in the afternoon are very refreshing. The town of Fortuna is beneath Volcan Arenal and at night you can see the lava glowing red! We went on a boat ride and saw many exotic animals. We also went to a wonderful hotsprings and soaked for hours and hours under the starry sky. The locals set off fire works last night for Christmas Eve. It was quite the show. Today we are off to the cloud and rain forests of Monte Verde.
Merry Xmas all!!
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Hello my darlings!
I am speaking to you from the ever wonderful, the ever green Costa Rica!
After a lot of unwanted and uncalled for delays we finally pulled into town today at 2:30 pm. That's right, over 24 hours worth of travel.
But Costa Rica is warm, beautiful, green and completely different from anything I've ever experienced before. The aunt, the mom and I went for a walk along the road (busy as hell and no sidewalks) to a little restaurant were we ordered up some bebers (drinks) and some chow. A wonderful mix was on the radio and we had a varied assortment of dishes including little tortillas with a relish tray and a whole roasted garlic, enchilada, stuffed chilis and heart of palm salad. MMMmmm. The people here a really nice. I can't say that I have seen a lot of the real culture, mainly just a busy road but I have high hopes for the next month. Tomorrow, we head to the grand Volcana Arenal, which is still lively as all get out and soak in the hot springs there abouts, go on a night tour looking for animals and generally bask in the "bad" feeling one gets from hanging out within death's grip right under an active volcano.
Adios!
I am speaking to you from the ever wonderful, the ever green Costa Rica!
After a lot of unwanted and uncalled for delays we finally pulled into town today at 2:30 pm. That's right, over 24 hours worth of travel.
But Costa Rica is warm, beautiful, green and completely different from anything I've ever experienced before. The aunt, the mom and I went for a walk along the road (busy as hell and no sidewalks) to a little restaurant were we ordered up some bebers (drinks) and some chow. A wonderful mix was on the radio and we had a varied assortment of dishes including little tortillas with a relish tray and a whole roasted garlic, enchilada, stuffed chilis and heart of palm salad. MMMmmm. The people here a really nice. I can't say that I have seen a lot of the real culture, mainly just a busy road but I have high hopes for the next month. Tomorrow, we head to the grand Volcana Arenal, which is still lively as all get out and soak in the hot springs there abouts, go on a night tour looking for animals and generally bask in the "bad" feeling one gets from hanging out within death's grip right under an active volcano.
Adios!
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Dodowa Road
Lapping dogs with lamenting dirges
called to me from sunburned Savannah
hills. Thirsty dogs, dry as sand and wind-
streaked tongues, with paws cracked
in Hamartan heat, pad up and down
the blood red road. Back and forth
they oscillate, circle round and round,
dead dogs. They haunt the side of the road,
rotting like war, rotting like rinds
of salted roast. Day after day, electricity,
cascading neurons, vanish with five
o'clock sunset. Hair and eyebrows gone
like a two year old's birthday cake.
Muscle and skin, toenails and eyeballs
are devoured like a fine book at one a.m.
Nerves and muscle, cartilage and soft
organs are pulled from cavities like precious
jewels and day after day, the road reaches
long to the north, and south to the sea.
The entire walk, rotting dogs decay
to dusty bones and dripping dreams.
Lapping dogs with lamenting dirges
called to me from sunburned Savannah
hills. Thirsty dogs, dry as sand and wind-
streaked tongues, with paws cracked
in Hamartan heat, pad up and down
the blood red road. Back and forth
they oscillate, circle round and round,
dead dogs. They haunt the side of the road,
rotting like war, rotting like rinds
of salted roast. Day after day, electricity,
cascading neurons, vanish with five
o'clock sunset. Hair and eyebrows gone
like a two year old's birthday cake.
Muscle and skin, toenails and eyeballs
are devoured like a fine book at one a.m.
Nerves and muscle, cartilage and soft
organs are pulled from cavities like precious
jewels and day after day, the road reaches
long to the north, and south to the sea.
The entire walk, rotting dogs decay
to dusty bones and dripping dreams.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Reflex
It all began on a rocking horse.
The story of my life, a talking horse,
started slow, like a second date,
a secret wish served on broken
plate, a golden coin, flattened
on railroad steel. I twitched
and conceived a critique
of consciousness. A cactus of truth
pierced my skin, drooled out
a foreign friend. Transposed
in a perspiring melange,
we painted a tapestry
of terracotta pearls and timid
paper and plastic,
expanding like a wicked
little shadow, inebriating
me like a salty sailor.
The curve of a smile puckers
in carefully colored calendars.
Teeth on Tuesdays, grins
on Mondays and chortles
on Fridays.
Week after week a sad
love song whispers
on my shoulder like an evil
demon, urging me to your
cracked egg shell smiles
and flakey pastry prose.
We both know that making
the sun rise is like muting
a silent monkey.
It has already happened.
It all began on a rocking horse.
The story of my life, a talking horse,
started slow, like a second date,
a secret wish served on broken
plate, a golden coin, flattened
on railroad steel. I twitched
and conceived a critique
of consciousness. A cactus of truth
pierced my skin, drooled out
a foreign friend. Transposed
in a perspiring melange,
we painted a tapestry
of terracotta pearls and timid
paper and plastic,
expanding like a wicked
little shadow, inebriating
me like a salty sailor.
The curve of a smile puckers
in carefully colored calendars.
Teeth on Tuesdays, grins
on Mondays and chortles
on Fridays.
Week after week a sad
love song whispers
on my shoulder like an evil
demon, urging me to your
cracked egg shell smiles
and flakey pastry prose.
We both know that making
the sun rise is like muting
a silent monkey.
It has already happened.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Ripping Off a Whiny Song
A three pronged hat and a tin roof
sunday ice cream strolling
in Central Park, a chapeau
and a fatty dairy product,
it's true, but what were
the chances, of them strolling
in Central Park.
Come to me in a satin scarf
and robes of milky cream.
Come to me and listen
to my ditherings, my digressions,
commas, quotes and quid pro quos.
Six thousand words I have scribbled
with a million, trillion, gazillion
to follow. Hanging clauses,
compound sentences without
a pound, raw, unfinished.
If you came to me
in the hollow honeydew
haze, you would scare away
the spider webs of Easter egg
shadows and render me
a loquacious fool with your
enchanting cantations.
One for puppies and two
for pain. Another for love
and three for flying angels
raining fairy dust and subjunctives.
I am counting crayons,
each one a different color.
A three pronged hat and a tin roof
sunday ice cream strolling
in Central Park, a chapeau
and a fatty dairy product,
it's true, but what were
the chances, of them strolling
in Central Park.
Come to me in a satin scarf
and robes of milky cream.
Come to me and listen
to my ditherings, my digressions,
commas, quotes and quid pro quos.
Six thousand words I have scribbled
with a million, trillion, gazillion
to follow. Hanging clauses,
compound sentences without
a pound, raw, unfinished.
If you came to me
in the hollow honeydew
haze, you would scare away
the spider webs of Easter egg
shadows and render me
a loquacious fool with your
enchanting cantations.
One for puppies and two
for pain. Another for love
and three for flying angels
raining fairy dust and subjunctives.
I am counting crayons,
each one a different color.
