On the subway this morning I was daydreaming about the imagery of Maria Sabina, the Mexican curandera who became famous for introducing westerners to the mysteries of magic mushrooms, which she called her little angels. This morning it felt right to sit on the subway and revere the whirlwind of colors that is part of her poetic lexicon. Maybe because there's an abundance of beauty in the twists of mid summer, the swirl in the rose of sharon, the coil in the moon flower bud.
Also in the iron bars of the more distinguished fences, twisted, sometimes doubly.
I didn't expect to see anything as twisted as this, though.
I can't imagine what happened. Did the shining knight lose his duel with the safety pin? Perhaps dancing with lady pin, things started to go badly. If you are a close reader of this blog, you might suspect that I faked this. I didn't, and I want answers.
At work today, my young brilliant coworker was talking about 2 Darwin Award winners, a pair who fell from a rooftop while having a very very good time together. Perhaps that's how it was for the beetle and his silvery friend.
3 comments:
My brothers used to spend long summer afternoons finding interesting ways to torture bugs, in the name of scientific experimentation. I wouldn't be surprised if this was the work of a neighborhood kid, engaging in a similar pursuit. Seems the most likely explanation, anyway.
When i found it, it was still slightly alive, not squished. So maybe the scoundrels had a delicate touch.
Thanks for discovering my blog, so that I, in turn, could be led to discover yours. I'll be a regular reader now.
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