For 365 days, starting April 26, we will hide an egg with a poem inside somewhere in the city of Merced, CA. This blog will track who finds the eggs and offer clues for those who seek.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Day 35: Swiss Colony Apartments
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Day 34: Purple
Day 33: Courthouse Museum
Friday, May 27, 2011
Day 32: Bagel Tyme
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Day 31
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Day 30: The Closed Mercy Hospital, 13th Street
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Day 29: Purple
Monday, May 23, 2011
The REAL Day 28: green egg, with apologies for no ham
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Day 27: Bright Pink, Beachwood neighborhood
Day 26: Orange egg, courtesy Byron Webb
Day 26: Orange egg, filled with a lovely poem by Byron Webb, which he hid near a fire hydrant at the Northwest corner of Yosemite and San Jose in front of Village Landing Apartments. Find!
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Egg on the loose: Alameda, CA
Friday, May 20, 2011
Day 25. Pale Pink. Plus an egg on the loose.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Day 24: Green Egg
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Great Egg Hunt, Day 23; Egg, bright pink
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Blue: Center of Merced Mall, near See's Candy
Elizabeth McMunn-Tetangco has offered another of her gems to the hunt--stuffing it in a blue egg and placing it inside the Merced Mall. Avid egg-hunter James Collins went after it, only to find that a little girl had found it a moment before.
Day 21: Yellow Egg, "The Middle of Me and What Lodges There," a poem by Dawn Trook
The Middle of Me and What Lodges There
When the shine is stripped away,
I’m rough and wrong,
wanting comfort from faultlines.
The box of lies
kept in a box by my bed,
the backs of each pretty
pictures they hide behind.
This one’s a bird,
this one a song. It weaves between
my mean places, making me
not all bad, not all need.
I’m song and bird, star and varnish,
soap bubbles in a child’s eyes—
I’m all this, and the ensuing break.
I’m not all bad,
and I’m not all please.
My heart’s full of bird chatter—full of gift
and fears. My heart’s a jar of stars,
hoarding light, making night shadows.
My heart’s stuffed with soap and breathe.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Day 19: Bright Yellow, Byron Webb
Friday, May 13, 2011
Hiding the eggs: Two videos
Day 18: Mint Green: There in the party downtown
Day 17: Rancho San Miguel Market
The Homemade Piñata
I toppled--always too soon,
a hollow thud where the heart had been held.
A vital organ carted away, accidentally
mixed in with the recycling. I tried
fashioning myself a new
heart from old newspapers, a hole-punch,
and yarn scraps, wore it dangling
around my neck with a macramé chain
(knotted from a ball of twine
my mother left behind).
And there it was, waiting and obvious,
saying, "Here is the news:
She's ready." Must've looked so clumsy,
bicycle-commuting with that floppy
necklace batting back and forth.
What a dope. So I hung it on my wall--
pretended it was only art. On some random
visit, he admired the heart and I waved it off,
saying, "Oh, I'm through with it."
And then, unhooking it from above its place,
held it in my open palms, and, moving toward him, said,
"Why, do you want it?"