We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
When I heard the Learn'd Astronomer (from Leaves of Grass, 1892)
When I heard the learn'd astronomer; When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me; When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them; When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room, How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick; Till rising and gliding out, I wander'd off by myself, In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time, Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars.
Nothing like Whitman in the morning. He wrote some of the most amazing words. I love his verse on pro-creation. Almost dirty, but clever. It's sends such vivid imagery through one's head. Yet, I am at a loss for the title this morning. I guess Bob Dylan is speaking louder this morning.
Hostage to the pedagogue
Spouting glurging solipsist monologue
Free verse, dogma, metaphor
Figurative, octave, so much more
Lines of verse that do not rhyme
Cheat the point, mock that what try
Phallic this, quatrain that
Esteemed as polymaths without the math
I, too, soon, accountable, grew sick and tired
In another's bent was I mired
But away from those, on my own time
Alone at home with my own mind
I happily be a filthy philistine
Heh, maybe I still be
OK, needs some work but the f'n lawn ain't gonna get mowed by itself..