An English In Kentucky



















July 14th 2009

    I can picture them now.  "Creative is."  A collection of anecdotes passing between them.  A collusion to achieve a harmony of deceit.  A flurry in now that requires a solution.  

    Here I am unfortunately arrogant.  Otherwise I would be happily craven in grasping this moment.  Otherwise, I too would like things to be about me, which runs contrary to all I have been shown.  And in me the spirit appears still angry.  It remains "Yes" or "No".  And it does this, I like to think, because I am tired of failing at deceit.




    Beginning to think I should allow an oration that reaches for real.  But that would be crass, it would lack sensibility, and one day when I am hungry again I will look at my contribution to the history of "What not to do at funerals" and ask myself, "Why did I waste so much?"    

    "Baa-Baa black sheep, have you any wool.  Yes Sir! Yes sir! Three bags full!"

    Alternatively I could be truly dull and say, "Allow her to follow the lead bull into the night, so her star can join that firmament of life, where perils are few and the future is certain."

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