Going to Vegas

Passion fruit flower

Slinking across the curbless roads of Dante’s inferno, I found this flower and thought spontaneously that Beatrice would adore it (not that I have much opportunity to converse with her–or to know what she likes or doesn’t like–as I’ve haven’t seen her in years). Virgil called it a weed, but he’s a poet and must have some secret knowledge of its rank in this nethermost hell. Just the other day I said, “Vir, what’s this ferny looking thing?” and he said, after pausing to think, “a weed.” It was a passion-flower. And so I am faced with the heartbreaking realization that Virgil is a bit of a fraud when it comes to appreciating the tangible delights of this or that scaffold of green and its concomitant splashes of salmon or touches of tangerine or whatever. To summarize: my poet is such a disappointment–and a lousy guide to boot. Moreover, pontificating today about the damnation of souls is a hard sell. Better to stick with popular topics such as the effete tincture of corruption that is tainting international football.

And speaking of Dante’s inferno, there’s Vegas.


Prospero Dae



  1. How many times have I warned you about poets, Prospero. None? Well I’m warning you now: appearances that non-poets see as reality (including football) mean very little to poets . And by now, Virgil has been doing the Inferno gig so long, he thinks everything is a weed: hanging around with bad people gets to one, after a while. So don’t be too harsh on the poor old guy, just be glad you’re not like that, when it comes to enjoying knowing the flowers.

    By the way, thank you for giving the links to your other publications here on your own blog…since I don’t follow those other sites, I would miss those gems, and that I would truly regret!


    • And as you know, Cynthia, poetry has little to do with words on a paper–it’s an outlook on life (which includes not giving a hoot about football or any other sport-slash-business; I don’t have anything against sport per se, but I do object to business masquerading as athletics: let’s call a spade a spade).

      I am, of course, gratified that you like to read my prose, but you are partially to blame. A few weeks ago you said something like ‘keep writing.’ It then dawned on me that I was in fact writing (duh!) and that perhaps I should keep doing it. Now you have created a monster. So thank you (I think!)

      Liked by 2 people

  2. I find close-ups of flowers fascinating Prospero and this passion-flower is just that. No painters color can come close to mimicking Mother Nature’s pure and gorgeous hues, and the delicate structure of the little hair-like anthers and stigma. A really great shot! I enjoy reading your writing – glad to see more of it these days.


  3. 🙂 I agree. Beatrice would certainly have enjoyed your photo.


  4. That is a very beauriful passion flower, Prospero, so Virgil must have been a fraud. And here was I, liking some of his poetry. The passion flower is such a delicate bloom, and the colours are lovely.You have captured it so well on your photo. We had some of a pale blue and white combination at our last house but haven’t got round to putting them in our present garden.
    I’ve never been to Vegas. It’s never held appeal to me, other that as a great human achievement (i.e. creating a city in the heart of a desert). Yellowstone would be more to my liking.


    • Vegas is like a medieval castle–ostentatious, impractical, and full of Elvis impersonators.


      • Haha. Thank you for that, Prospero. 🙂 So many things in life are oestentatious. Medieval castles were, to a degree, but they were also effective – at the time. Vegas attracts millions of tourists, so I suppose that can be also classed as effective. The passion flower will always be effective to me. 🙂


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