"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Friday, June 18, 2010


Vines once grew here,
from every crack
and every hole.
Bundles of sinewy green nonsense
babbling over everything,
runaway river.

Then we built it higher,
all of it,
financed and adored
with a catastrophe of riches.
It went up brick by empty brick,
snarling I-beams piled high,
daring you to ride
to the sterilized silver peak.

One day,
the buildings in this city
will grow tall enough
to block out the sun.
And on that day,
I'll consider getting a job somewhere else.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
MGMT, Kids (this has been stuck in my head all day)

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