Sunday, January 8, 2017


I am tired now, and really
shouldn't be here at all. By
this time last night I'd have
sworn I'd be back on 18th 
street, throwing down some 
paint, or dancing with an 
artful dodger. But the best
laid plans of mice and men  -  
as Darwin said  - somehow 
grow wings to fly. Evolution
or revolution, it's all the
same on high. Here's a lick
and promise, you'll be back.
I'd gladly have faint cupped 
hands if you'd promise not 
to throw them away. They're
good enough for holding
things, even monkey-like, 
and stopping things from 
falling. That one, I know, 
Evolution  -  all that 
ape-shit patter.
I once saw people crossing 
the canal  -   ever so gently 
they were walking on rocks;
no, not water, just rocks. It 
was enough for me, and it
may have been Revolution.
Well, perhaps. Any monkey's
got oppossable thumbs, but 
what simian do you know
that has ever stopped the 
tides? Or split the sea?
And walked on that 
water too?
It takes lots more
than intention to do
what you intend to do.
You need the means; and
you need the bounty too.
So, here's to a Heaven and
here's to a Hell. Either one
we're collecting for, and
both are doing well.

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