the wind is blowing
in secular circles
cats and birds and bats
look for something to eat
lizards invade the kitchen
seeking a little shade,
and protection...
everything is making faces.


the parched earth
the sanitized petri dish
needs a little
water and dirt
a few ugly germs
nasty bacteria
to grow something

old new
it doesn't matter
anything
just grow me something to eat!

the dog poops at the edge of the yard
the old lady collects
gunked up food stuff from the fridge
funky matter behind the trashcan bins
as long as she's half sure
it's not chemical petro
radio active

into the garden it goes
with a cup of water
and a welcoming prayer please
for worms, mites, fungus and ants
to get this dirty
garden party growing

It started here. I looked up the artist Wassily Kandinsky, a master of abstract composition, via the internet this morning, and came upon awkward, muddied images instead of the lovely whimsy he created on canvas with paint. I tried to give feedback to one of the generally reliable, well-intentioned sites. I got into a kind of loop where I was directed to point A, which directed me to point B, which redirected me to Point A, which directed me to point B.

For several years on the internet, I've run into doctored information, pictures, identities, missing famous artists, but the problem now is on a grander, more pervasive, culture-altering scale.

One part of the solution would be to seek information the 'old-fashioned' way, such as through books, libraries, museums. Unfortunately, the same problem exists outside of the internet as well as in. I've met libraries, new and old, in the United States with oddly limited and amended selections, and whose books have been brazenly altered. The books in my own collection have disappeared or been seriously tampered with, including classic children's books. The museums I have most recently visited are violated - works dated in the 1600s show obvious signs of having been painted recently, museum store books of Chihuly's works and about van Gogh are filled with images of awkward, somewhat offensive art. I'm familiar enough with these artists to know these are not their works.

It's a kind of apocalyptic messing with our collective soul.

My intention this morning is to continue going back, continue showing up at my favorite book stores and museums. I can calmly report concerns as they arise. I can occupy a library.

This image was taken by D. Gordon E. Robertson at a Maasai shelter at Ngorongoro Conservation Area in Tanzania. It is posted here via permission through Wikimedia Commons, and was in the Wikipedia article titled 'Maasai People'.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Maasai_shelter.jpg

The Maasai People have interested me since I read stories set in Kenya and Tanzania in the early 1900s. The Maasai come across as individuals who live with dignity, and honor their relationships with others. This photo from October, 2009, taken in Tanzania kept showing up in unusual ways today in April, 2013 in south Louisiana, so I thought I'd share it.

(a public image made available through wikimedia commons. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Natlpark.jpg )

Since I was a little kid, I've been a big fan of the US Postal Service. I feel a kind of happiness when I enter post offices. A most casual and unorganized collector of stamps, I first started saving them off envelopes when I was twenty-one.

The following text of this post consists entirely of quotes from the Wikipedia article 'United States Postal Service'.


'The first postal service in America arose in February 1692, when a grant from King William and Queen Mary empowered Thomas Neale "to erect, settle and establish within the chief parts of their majesties' colonies and plantations in America, an office or offices for the receiving and dispatching letters and pacquets, and to receive, send and deliver the same under such rates and sums of money as the planters shall agree to give, and to hold and enjoy the same for the term of twenty-one years."'


Subsequently: 'The United States Postal Service (USPS), also known as the Post Office and U.S. Mail, [became] an independent agency of the United States government responsible for providing postal service in the United States. It is one of the few government agencies explicitly authorized by the United States Constitution. The USPS traces its roots to 1775 during the Second Continental Congress, where Benjamin Franklin was appointed the first postmaster general. The cabinet-level Post Office Department was created in 1792 from Franklin's operation and transformed into its current form in 1971 under the Postal Reorganization Act.'


'The USPS has not directly received taxpayer-dollars since the early 1980s with the minor exception of subsidies for costs associated with the disabled and overseas voters.'


'The USPS employs over 574,000 workers and operates over 260,000 vehicles. The USPS is the operator of the largest vehicle fleet in the world. The USPS is legally obligated to serve all Americans, regardless of geography, at uniform price and quality.'





'The first stamp issues [Ben Franklin and George Washington above] were authorized by an act of Congress and approved on March 3, 1847. The earliest known use of the Franklin 5c is July 7, 1847, while the earliest known use of the Washington 10c is July 2, 1847. Remaining in postal circulation for only a few years, these issues were declared invalid for postage on July 1, 1851.'

(a public image made available through wikimedia commons. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:First_US_Stamps_1847_Issue.jpg )

Easter 1987 we were roasting hot dogs at a campfire on the top of a hill between Boerne and Fredricksburg, Texas that was strewn with limestone rubble. The sky was dim, not quite long enough after sunset to be truly dark. Sparks were dancing above the wood in the fire, and there was lots of noise from my cousins and family and toddler around the fire ring.

A jack rabbit lean and aging - white around the eyes and face - slowly jumped past. 'Hey! Look at that!' was about the only comment that acknowledged his presence, and the partiers went back to talking and eating and drinking. The jack rabbit passed on by, apparently unafraid. He found a spot between the prickly pear and the sweet agarita. As I stood near, and the others cavorted around, he sat. The jack rabbit had a great stillness. I can still see his silhouette.

Not many days passed before we were surprised to learn of a second child on his way. The two memories - the jack rabbit and the good news - go hand in hand in my mind.

Rip Van Winkle has been in the back of my mind since I learned a couple months ago that a local garden and home, whose location in Louisiana is known as 'Jefferson Island', was established by a fellow named Joseph Jefferson just after the Civil War. (I'd always assumed it was named after President Thomas Jefferson.) Joe Jefferson was a traveling actor, one of a family of actors in the northeastern United States. He gained fame and success performing a one-man show about Rip Van Winkle across many years, in the US and abroad.

'Rip Van Winkle' is a short story that was written by Washington Irving and published in 1820. It has been an established part of American folklore. I'm including a link to the story that I hope is true to the original publication.
http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/RipVan.shtml

(this image is of Joseph Jefferson as Rip Van Winkle, taken by Napoleon Sarony in 1869, made available through Wikimedia Commons: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Joseph_Jefferson_as_Ripvanwinkle_by_Napoleon_SArony_%281821-1896%29.jpg )

This past weekend
I looked for the Periodic Table of Elements -
then the venerable language of Latin.
I looked for the poems of John Donne.

You may remember the movie 'Groundhog Day' where each morning the date resets to February second. Well, apparently somebody's going for a sequel: 'April Fools Day'. Every day I ponder, is this April 1st?

This image is from Wikimedia Commons. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Elementspiral.svg