Long live the weeds that overwhelm
My narrow vegetable realm-
The bitter rock, the barren soil
That force the son of man to toil;
All things unholy, marked by curse,
The ugly of the universe.
The rough, the wicked, and the wild
That keep the spitit undefiled.
With these I match my little wit
And earn the right to stand or sit,
Hope, look, create, or drink and die:
These shape the creature that is I .
Off too London town, cat sitting, opportunity again to reflect, I like doing that.
Time for a little Marx, Miro, Schielle, some driftin, reflecting.... find some reasons to be doubtful.
Emma Goldman reminds me to keep on dancing., carry on believing.
In the evening find some music, cross some fences, look at a pretty city, sit awhile, feel the beat underneath my feet. Lights will dazzle, for a while........
in the meantime I leave something in the air..
probably be posting sooner than I think....
hope I remember when it's gone.
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