Santa Pups

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Christmas has come and gone but the madness continues. This one is courtesy of Amy King.

Santy Claws

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Thanks to feline wardrobe executive Kristin McGoningle for Immovable Feast's fifth day of Christmas absurdity.

Thistles

Against the rubber tongues of cows and the hoeing hands of men



















Thistles spike the summer air
And crackle open under a blue-black pressure.


















Every one a revengeful burst
Of resurrection, a grasped fistful
Of splintered weapons and Icelandic frost thrust up

















From the underground stain of a decayed Viking.
They are like pale hair and the gutturals of dialects.
Every one manages a plume of blood.


















Then they grow grey like men.
Mown down, it is a feud. Their sons appear
Stiff with weapons, fighting back over the same ground.

- Ted Hughes

Giant Dandelion and a Valentine

There is an accompanying poem for this picture. I will send it to you if you ask.