Simplicity.
It flows.
It crashes.
It employs only
as much effort as
conditions dictate.
It does not rush
in a panic.
While straight,
its movements seem
whip-like.
When possible,
it moves straight,
But it rolls around or over
any obstacle.
If follows the course,
but also carves
the course.
Its movement, inexorable.
Dark brown is the river,
Golden is the sand.
It flows along for ever,
With trees on either hand.
Green leaves a-floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-boating --
Where will all come home?
On goes the river,
And out past the mill,
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill.
Away down the river,
A hundred miles or more,
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore.
It’s not snack time… I do like a good pretzel, but – alas – pretzels are not a thing in India. Probably a good thing for me.
the tree sprawls,
over the mountain trail, yet
winter rains pass through.
opera singers
sing a duet on the trail:
acoustics quest?
Well, as we all know that voice-activated “digital assistants” (e.g. Siri and Alexa,) have both become insanely popular that they and spy on you around the clock, gathering information to sell to “big data” marketing firms, I propose a service that would involve coming to your house and making noises and statements that would turn the collected “information” into disinformation. The best part is, the package could be tailored to your desires and preferences. If you’re a milquetoast person but don’t like that reputation, you could get the Orgy Pack which would make your house sound like a non-stop bacchanal. If you’re really a mobster, there could be the sounds of meetings to set up a church bingo night. The possibilities are endless.
Remember, until the Robot Uprising, don’t let yourself be punked by the machines. Subscribe to DISINFORMATION DAILY today.
Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is;
It sucked me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be;
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead,
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pampered swells with one blood made of two,
And this, alas, is more than we would do.
Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, nay more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is;
Though parents grudge, and you, w'are met,
And cloistered in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that, self-murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.
Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail, in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it sucked from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st and say that thou
Find'st not thy self, nor me the weaker now;
"Tis true; then learn how false, fears be:
Just so much honor, when thou yield'st to me,
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.
gray day river --
the exposed riverbed
shows only by tracks
Tiger Riding for Beginners 