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Showing posts with the label Grace Street

If what you have done is unjust, you have not succeeded.

When flowers cry. Princes Street, Sandy Bay. September 2011. Some days are better than others.

It is only in isolate flecks that / something / is given off

A bee's dream. Grace Street, Sandy Bay. September 2011. There are things that you like and things that you do not like and there are things in between. I suspect that the in-between category is the biggest for me, but by golly "things that you don't like" is a biggun. To Elsie , William Carlos Williams The pure products of America go crazy— mountain folk from Kentucky or the ribbed north end of Jersey with its isolate lakes and valleys, its deaf-mutes, thieves old names and promiscuity between devil-may-care men who have taken to railroading out of sheer lust of adventure— and young slatterns, bathed in filth from Monday to Saturday to be tricked out that night with gauds from imaginations which have no peasant traditions to give them character but flutter and flaunt sheer rags—succumbing without emotion save numbed terror under some hedge of choke-cherry or viburnum— which they cannot express— Unless it be tha...