“Tastes” – The grass didn’t taste as sweet this morning. I think it is because of last night’s pie. I suppose flavors eat each other like one sound eats another. I wonder if a donkey doesn’t taste as good to a deer tick after a deer tick has tasted a deer?
Tag: morton
“Morton’s Pond” (XX)
“Smells” – Bonny and Pablo made a pumpkin pie. I could smell it from the other side of the lake. I walked to their cabin to tell them I could smell the pie, and they offered me a slice.
“Morton’s Pond” (XIX)
“Sounds” – Another day with Pablo. Listening to him talk to me and listening to me talk to him. I could also hear Bonny and Ditto by the lake. I think they were painting because I could smell the paint. There were large patches of silence between the words they were saying. Or maybe the patches of silence were when I was listening to Pablo or myself talk.
“Morton’s Pond” (XVIII)
“Sounds” – The echo of an axe. Pablo. I helped him stack wood in the shed behind his cabin. He said I should gather some.
“Morton’s Pond” (XVII)
“Tastes” – Thinking about eating. Me eating grass. Clouds eating colors. Sounds eating sounds and ticks eating me… even thoughts eating thoughts. Everything a big circle of eating.
“Morton’s Pond” (XVI)
“Sounds” – My breath. Panting as I propped up the walls of my shelter. I didn’t even hear the train to Concord because I was so focused on building. You can only hear what you happen to be listening to, or else the sound of building ate up the sound of the train.
“Morton’s Pond” (V)
“Sounds” – Birds. The wind. The sloshing of the pond against the shore. And the sound of an airplane. I think it was from an airplane. Because I didn’t hear the sound when I first saw the plane, then I heard the sound and saw the plane, then I didn’t see the plane but I still heard the sound. Maybe the wind blows sound like it blows shadows.
“Morton’s Pond” (IV)
“Sights” – Lots of trees. More trees. Sunlight through the trees. Shadows of the trees. Sometimes the shadows are blown around by the wind, but are never completely blown away.
“Morton’s Pond” (II)
“Sights” – Many trees. A lot of last year’s leaves. And oh yes, I saw a bug that might have been a deer tick. But since I’ve never seen a deer tick, I can’t be sure. I suppose you can’t be sure about something until you can.
“Morton’s Pond” (I)
Hello, said Pablo. Hello, said Morton. What are you doing at Walden Pond? I don’t know, said Morton. You don’t know? said Pablo. No, said Morton. Be careful you don’t get any deer ticks. Deer ticks? said Morton. Yes, said Pablo, spring is the season for deer ticks. Oh, said Morton. Where are the other students? said Pablo. Glouster is in Boston with the ducks at Longfellow bridge, Chelsea is at Emma Lou’s house, Frank is living in the Concord cemetery, and the moose just vanished. Do you have any plans for the summer? No, said Morton, I can’t figure out what to do since the semester ended. Maybe you should spend the summer here. Here? said Morton. Sure, said Pablo. What could I do here? said Morton. You could look at things, said Pablo, and listen to things, and write about what you see and hear. Really? said Morton. Sure, said Pablo, just like Thoreau. Who? said Morton. Henry David Thoreau, said Pablo, a man who didn’t know what to do after he graduated from college, so he moved to Walden and wrote about what he saw and heard. That doesn’t sound very interesting, said Morton. Actually, said Pablo, he became famous. Really? said Morton, just because he didn’t know what to do after college?