Not so long ago,
I came upon Half Dome
half done, shrouded
in oak scaffolding.
Squinting my eyes,
I noted stocky little men
on the network of hardwood
with rosy cheeks and
beards like their bellies,
some chiseling away at the granite,
Looking again at all that
scaffolding, I recalled
how spacious the forests
and the meadows had been
before the white rangers came
and saved everything, and then
I thought, well,
these guys did it!
But what about the glaciers,
I inquired of one of the little people
who’d come by to offer me a pint.
What’s a glacier, he asked me.
Some kind of elf?
© 2013 Kaweah
phone (fon) Informal—n. A telephone.
—v. phoned, phoning. To call or transmit by
Please accept my apology
for having stooped so low,
resorting to quotations.
Take heart: I don’t cite authority lightly,
but that phenomenon that’s femi-nine—
ambiguity demands one be specific
with one’s sources of information.
I’m sure it’s nothing there’s just a
minor misalignment between the words
and their intention.
Surely it’s a simple matter of definition.
Rest assured, no sooner had she spoken it was written,
and mapped to every match in Webster’s latest
Here be where the visitors
seek advisement in these affairs,
among the natives who—
having heard a word more often—
might be a little more familiar
with words whose sounds are similar,
having only sound in common.
If there’s one thing I cannot stand, it’s a first-generation low-flow toilet.
It’s almost enough to make a Republican out of me.
If there’s one thing I cannot stand, it’s an East Coast bagel snob.
Santa has had to live with a bad rap for as long as I can remember. In spite of the best of intentions and centuries of selfless service, he has been made into a symbol of rampant consumerism.
Nevertheless, those of us who know him know that he has the true meaning of Christmas in his heart.
… or in his belly, at least!