Wednesday, November 07, 2007

post cup day

My punting was dictated by a bird, that woke me at 5:30 with the call: Purple Moon, Purple Moon.

Well that's what I heard. It was actually saying: Don't be an idiot. As if I'd know anything about horses.


Tony said...

No, no, no. The bird was saying pample mousse, pample mousse.

It wanted you to have grapefruit for breakfast.

boynton said...

A cereal offender...
(I wonder why it told me to go for the box trifecta breakfast?)

Zeppo Bakunin said...

I would have thought a parlay would have been the bet for bloggers.

Still, a 'parlay formula' sounds like a breakfast for kids being taught to speak.

Lunar Brogue said...

... or ...

Yellow moon, yellow moon,
why you keep peeping in my window?
Do you know something I don't know? etc.

Now if I had such a soulful bird warbling Neville Brothers' tunes through my bedroom window each morning, I'd be quite a satisfied man. (I wouldn't rely on it for racing tips though.)

Juke said...

So much depends on the precise apprehension of intended meaning. Maybe birds are incapable of negative utterance, or maybe their "don'ts" are too subtly aspirated. Maybe they were trying to tell you something else:

" many close calls our
lives are made of, did

the palm reader say
You will have a long life

or the wrong wife, suppose
god has bad handwriting

or a lisp, and we've mis-
understood the messages:

In the begonia was the worm...

we mistook gardening advice

for the story of our lives—
god made lime, and separated

the lime from the bark, planted
seeds, they were fruitful and

vegetable, he looked at what he had
made and saw that it was food

Sharon Bryan
today at Poetry Daily

boynton said...

No, je ne parlay pas.
But perhaps the bird was saying
Mystery Bet, Mystery Bet

Lunar brogue yeller?

What a great poem, Juke, love it.