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eohippus all contents copyright 2007 max carmichael | why eohippus? bio contact | |
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arts portfolio: visual arts music writing events design | |
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writing: pamphlet literature | back next | |
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...As the boy lay there naked in the soft grass, the column of birds slowly coalesced and
moved up the canyon. As they moved they collected light into their midst. Rays of light
came into and out of the column. There was a great number of the huge black birds, more
than he had ever seen together. They were clearly preparing to do something, and everything
around him was part of this coming event. Tears began to flow from his eyes, he laughed
uncontrollably. ...Let's go up the hillside and watch, said the lion. He clambered up one side of the hill through dry grass, to sit under an oak tree. The boy cut sideways across the hill, following a deer trail, pretending to stalk the lion. He ran furtively in a zigzag pattern, approaching through tall grass then settling at his lion friend's side. Together they watched and waited. Small birds interacted noisily around the stream, across the meadow, and through the trees. The boy listened to them, and gradually became aware of the insect layer, around him, in the lower branches of the trees, and all across the slopes of the hills. They were buzzing, singing, millions of them, in a continuous layer, over the entire landscape. Invisible, boundless, singing together, one song. The sense of life was staggering. Hear that? said his lion friend. Something's coming down through the trees behind us. They could both feel it. It was invisible. |
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1997 |
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...At its end the ridge plunges into the water of a huge jagged reservoir tucked away in
the rugged back country. The road winds down toward a dam, and as they pass the dam they
see the outliers of a sprawling trailer camp. Dilapidated vehicles of every kind crowd
the roadside, and as they pass through a gate into the center of the encampment, hounds
set up a tragic braying and filthy children kick up dust on all sides. Fat men burned to
a fine pink stare over their shoulders as the boys park and walk toward a small shack
almost hidden behind a huge sign lettered "STORE". A Hindu woman sits behind the counter
inside. There's a near-empty refrigerator with one small water bottle, and an open jar
of jerky on the counter. The boys procure both water and jerky, interrupted by a redneck
proprietor who bursts in, bellows an indecipherable harangue, and leaves as abruptly. |
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