Tuesday, December 4, 2007

The soft sough of tires on wet asphalt...

The squelch of thick brown puree of leaves underneath leaky shoes. Umbrellas bobbing in the air like unfurled fruit-bats. The stunned, incessant tapping of the Last Fly of Autumn against the dirty pane. December!

*****


A Mrs. Evelyn Jones of Carmathen, Wales responds to yesterday's prematurely vernal epigram in the Anglo (Saxon) with a seasonally-appropriate rejoinder in the tongue of her elders:

Eiry mynydd, gwynn pob tu;
kynnevin bran a chanu,
ny daw da o drachyscu.


Roughly put: "Snowy mountain, everywhere white; the raven is used to singing. No good comes from sleeping late."

That lapidary little tercet is to be found firmly lodged in that weighty tome of Celtic bard-dom, the Red Book of Hergest. The translation was supplied us by Mrs. Jones herself; if you can propose a better one, be hergest!

*****

A new product from the Ramen City Literature Laboratory tentatively trods its first steps from the bubbling beakers to the palettes of a discerning public. An ultra-compressed, quizzical form of short story for our hurried times' harried readers. Here is our soft-narrative developers' first example of this new genre:

ESCAPE
SNORES
COLORS
AROUSE
PERSON
ESSENE

Do you see that you may read the story from left to right, or from top to bottom and arrive at the same conclusion? We shall open the floor to vigorous theological debate as to whether the Essenes could conceivably be the sort of persons aroused by dream colors.


1 comment:

matt o said...

Mrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrph