DAILY PHOTO: Land’s End, Netravati
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Meschugge: Le Labyrinthe du fou by Benni BødkerDaughters of Time, the hypocritic Days,
Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes,
And marching single in an endless file,
Bring diadems and fagots in their hands.
To each they offer gifts after his will,
Bread, kingdoms, stars, or sky that holds
them all.
I, in my pleached garden, watched the
pomp,
Forgot my morning wishes, hastily
Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day
Turned and departed silent. I, too late,
Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn.

rain patters
in the rice paddy;
a frog croaks.
Spades take up leaves
No better than spoons,
And bags full of leaves
Are light as balloons.
I make a great noise
Of rustling all day
Like rabbit and deer
Running away.
But the mountains I raise
Elude my embrace,
Flowing over my arms
And into my face.
I may load and unload
Again and again
Till I fill the whole shed,
And what have I then?
Next to nothing for weight,
And since they grew duller
From contact with the earth,
Next to nothing for color.
Next to nothing for use,
But a crop is a crop,
And who's to say where
The harvest shall stop?

bats hang in bamboo —
blanket-wrapped in wings —
hang like their food, fruit.
What could you do more of?
Walk in natural settings.


