I Did. And it was made of Sweet Potato and Bourbon.

Indeed yesterday was my 29th. The internet censorship campaign kicked off. That’s brilliant I say.  Also, this poem by Charles Wright is what I read yesterday morning. I think it made sense for my day of birth:

Yard Work

I think that someone will remember us in another time,
Sappho once said-more or less-
Her words caught
Between the tongue’s tip and the first edge of the invisible.

I hope so, myself now caught
Between the edge of the landscape and the absolute,
Which is the same place, and the same sound,
That she made.

Meanwhile, let’s stick to business.
Everything else does, the landscape, the absolute, the invisible.
My job is yard work-
I take this inchworm, for instance, and move it from here to there. 

 

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