"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

Tuesday, April 29, 2014


Day Twenty-Nine: Only one more left.

There is no art in this,
the drowning of a man.
The ripples that stretch out
reach nothing, no rescue
and no dry land nearby.
The hands that hold him down
belong to no one soul,
but the whole consciousness
of some new, imagined
group of dark oppressors.
It is too bad, really,
that he had been hoping
for such a sorry end.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Grizzly Bear, About Face

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