proudly presenting some swingin', scattin', hippin'...

this cold spring we have come home to some important people who will ease the way to april-is-the-cruellest-month:
kurt, pat (Point C's own!) and maddy.

sincerest heartiest gratitude to jk and jk for making the mp3 possible.

we sometimes get free coffee
and sometimes the kind
we are addicted to
and then its luke warm
or fast becoming cold
but you dream that it
could be hot
and everything gets better
even the impending doom
of awaited replies from
busy-bee committee members

i'm in another one of those dead white poets phase so please bear with me.
WH - please go here to listen to the author read his poem. please hear it before reading it. please note yummy sarcasm in his voice while doing the last few lines. yummy.

He was keen to learn archery. On the advice of his mother, he desired to have an able teacher or guru. He headed towards Hasthinapura, capital of a mighty kingdom. He wanted to meet guru Drona, an expert in archery, and the teacher of royal princes. Drona expressed his inability to take him as his student, but gave him his blessings.
Ekalavya felt dejected but did not give up. After returning to the forest, he made an statue of guru Drona, prayed to the statue every day and practiced in front of the statue. He was determined to become an ace archer and was convinced that guru Drona, in an statue form, would teach him archery. When in difficulty over a stance, he would bow before the guru’s statue, meditate, and would discover the right approach.

just so you'll know when you're having an ekalavya complex.

must must musssssssst see.

seeeeeeeeeee. i gotttt!!

not even a little pudi i will give to anyone.
what a happy.

Was there a Time
by: Dylan Thomas

Was there a time when dancers with their fiddlesIn children's circuses coul stay their troubles?There was a time they could cry over books,But time has set its maggot on their track.Under the arc of the sky they are unsafe.What's never known is safest in this life.Under the skysigns they who have no armsHave cleanest hands, and, as the heartless ghostAlone's unhurt, so the blind man sees best.


Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night
by: Dylan Thomas

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;Though wise men at their end know dark is right,Because their words had forked no lightning theyDo not go gentle into that good night.Good men, the last wave by, crying how brightTheir frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,Do not go gentle into that good night.Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sightBlind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light.And you, my father, there on the sad height,Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I prayDo not go gentle into that good night.Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

to appease a bounce of varied snatches that rattle in my head from a merchant's class, giggles on the mount, a magdalen walk and john, ann and un-donne...

THE FLEA.by John Donne

MARK but this flea, and mark in this,How little that which thou deniest me is ;It suck'd me first, and now sucks thee, And in this flea our two bloods mingled be.Thou know'st that this cannot be saidA sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead ; Yet this enjoys before it woo, And pamper'd swells with one blood made of two ; And this, alas ! is more than we would do.O stay, three lives in one flea spare,Where we almost, yea, more than married are.This flea is you and I, and thisOur marriage bed, and marriage temple is.Though parents grudge, and you, we're met,And cloister'd 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 sincePurpled thy nail in blood of innocence?Wherein could this flea guilty be,Except in that drop which it suck'd from thee?Yet thou triumph'st, and say'st that thouFind'st not thyself nor me the weaker now.'Tis true ; then learn how false fears be ;Just so much honour, when thou yield'st to me,Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.

everybody,
i'm having an important weekend. i have found a bumblebee before which all words seem plastic. still working on how to report it.
she has one frown and many forehead furrows and many faces to wear the frown and furrows. she is being taught many biases at 2-days-short-of-4-months, by many members of community she is born into and enjoys not any attempt at objectivity.
bottom line- i like this bumblebee. it is made after my own heart. none of this is news or surprising but thats it i love this bumblebee!!!

*grinning sheepishly*
SONT DES MOTS QUI VON
TRES BIEN ENSEMBLE
TRES BIEN ENSEMBLE

a little drop of water?!