Poets in the park
Words to the trees
At differing stages
Cicadas vibrate their abdomens
And helicopters crash back at the pad
When an isolated stanza
Snatched to analyze adds
To the confusion
The bored drawl of all these Yankees
Exhaled as sighs
And eloquent wistfulness
Twists in the ever
this photo from an article in Harper's by Holman Day, 1905?
We went and stayed for a week in the southern coastal part of Maine. Close to Bush's grandaddy's place in Kennybunk. It was hot but the ocean was cold. I could live there. I didn't experience the winter, obviously, and I don't know what I'd do to earn a buck, but I guess there's a lot of that going on right now. I did drive into the forests to have a look, but saw nothing scary like bears or wolves. I didn't see an unstuffed moose or a souffled mouse. I did see some wild chipmunks. And a snake.
And some guys buying guns
Presumably to kill all the stuff you don't see
this photo from the same book about the New England Coast.