It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall*

I had to confess something to Jerry this morning. Something I had done that I was not proud of, a moment of passion or anger. A less than shining second. On my way to school on Friday, as I wondered lonely as a cloud through the backroads of Shiloh – I have four ways to get to school and this is my slow roll alternate – I turned on to Maple Street which must be a decade or so from being just a country road. I knew that there were (are) at least four campaign signs for Sauron and Voldemort, one including a banner of lies. And as I turned I saw that there were people on the front porch, and well, I told them they were number one with my middle finger. Sorry, sorry! Fuck you! Sorry. 

            Here’s just a gorgeous poem that was on Poetry Daily on Friday, “With the Help of the Birds” by Bill Brown, that ends with:

* Crossing Brooklyn Ferry, Walt Whitman