"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

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

The Old South

Time has been melting,
just as Dali painted it,
and somehow our customs
have maintained solidity.
Our surroundings, though,
are no less surreal,
and we decry change
every day - in large groups.
It's the lure of new culture,
the destructive urge
to progress, to make new,
to fix what isn't broken.

We are the opposite
of amorphous, like
how the Spaniard made
an angular, metallic Newton. 
Unlike the scientist, though,
no holes in our head,
no holes in our chest,
nowhere for tolerance
to filter through and grow.
So we've built anew
the Old South, as current
in the 21st as in the 19th.

Quite a story from Emma Smith-Stevens on Wigleaf.

Another from Wigleaf - Edward Mullany writes a great short.

Leonard P. Wilson is productive, lately. This one is especially good.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Shad, Remember to Remember

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