Hymn To The Sun (excerpt) How manifold it is, what thou hast made! They are hidden from the face (of man). O sole god, like whom there is no other! Thou didst create the world according to thy desire, Whilst thou wert alone: All men, cattle, and wild beasts, Whatever is on earth, going upon
Short Horror Story The last person on Earth sat in a room. There was a knock on the door. Shorter Horror Story The last person on Earth sat in a room. There was a lock on the door. – Harlan Ellison. 1934-2018
Peace Spring is warm and wet. It’s raining on the army. Chrysanthemums bloom.
SOCIALISM I agreed with every principle Bernie Sanders advanced during his presidential run, and I was sorry when he dropped out. But I wasn’t surprised. He was elected to the Senate as a Democratic Socialist, and the majority of Americans have always been leery of socialism, because it sounds like a sneakier form of communism.
i sing of Olaf glad and big whose warmest heart recoiled at war: a conscientious object-or his wellbeloved colonel trig westpointer most succinctly bred) took erring Olaf soon in hand; but–though an host of overjoyed noncoms(first knocking on the head him)do through icy waters roll that helplessness which others stroke with brushes recently employed anent
To paraphrase Dorothy’s line in The Wizard of Oz, “Acid and reefer and coke, oh, my!” (Well, Dorothy knew something about drugs – think of what happened to her in the poppy field.) I doubt if too many Americans of my generation got through the 1960s and early ‘70s without fooling around with various forms
COOKING DISASTERS The worst meals I ever ate, I cooked myself, because I had to. My mother cranked out food reluctantly and ineptly when I was a child, and in boarding school, college and the Army, meals were also laid on. They were all swill, but there was plenty of it, and I wasn’t picky.
Mister Bluster’s a son of a bitch Who hates being called “Moscow Mitch.” But he asked wily Vlad To make Biden look bad, And betrayed Uncle Sam to get rich.
Wild Mountain Thyme Oh, the summer time is coming, And the trees are sweetly blooming, And the wild mountain thyme Grows around the blooming heather. Will ye go, lassie go? Chorus: And we’ll all go together To pluck wild mountain thyme All around the blooming heather, Will ye go, lassie, go? I will build my
Cold Spring Birches bend to wind. Ragged skein of geese flies over. Both my hands are numb. -May 13th, 2020, New Hampshire