I feared a big macaque attack
As I walked by, turning my back.
Though its expression seemed ill-meaning,
I turned to see it was still preening.
Macaque [Lyric Poem]
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How do you manage screen time for yourself?
Many ways, really: e.g. Go for a walk or otherwise move. Forget it exists. When the WiFi goes down, take it as a sign from the universe. Juggle. Do something productive.
I see the writing on the wall,
and find it untrustworthy
because of all the stories
of valiant warriors
framed for treason
with forged poems
scrawled on tavern walls.
And of the virtuous men
who did write rancorous poems,
but did so while blackout drunk.
And I wonder whether the words
I am seeing are forged or written
under the influence
of intoxicants,
or -- possibly -- they are the truth.
But I cannot read them,
so I find them irrelevant,
though they may convey
crucial information,
such as:
- the existence of a vampire infestation, or
- the presence of cholera in the town well.
So, I can see the writing on the wall,
but I find it neither trustworthy
nor relevant --
(though my life may depend
on its contents.)
Grown about by Fragrant bushes,
Sunken in a winding valley,
Where the clear winds blow
And the shadows come and go,
And the cattle stand and low
And the sheep bells and the linnets
Sing and tinkle musically.
Between the past and the future,
Those two black infinities
Between which our brief life
Flashes a moment and goes out.

the fruit ripens
in the temple garden;
a kumquat drops.



