All in green went my love riding

by e.e. cummings (original source, 8 of 13 stanzas)

All in green went my love riding
on a great horse of gold
into the silver dawn.

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the merry deer ran before.

Fleeter be they than dappled dreams
the swift sweet deer
the red rare deer.

Horn at hip went my love riding
riding the echo down
into the silver dawn.

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the level meadows ran before.

Softer be they than slippered sleep
the lean lithe deer
the fleet flown deer.

Four fleet does at a gold valley
the famished arrows sang before.

Bow at belt went my love riding
riding the mountain down into the silver dawn.

In a book

As from the house your mother sees
You playing round the garden trees,
So you may see, if you will look
Through the windows of this book,
Another child, far, far away,
And in another garden, play.
But do not think you can at all,
By knocking on the window, call
That child to hear you. He intent
Is all on his play-business bent.
He does not hear, he will not look,
Nor yet be lured out of this book.
For, long ago, the truth to say,
He has grown up and gone away,
And it is but a child of air
That lingers in the garden there.

Robert Louis Stevenson

Virtual Reality

Crystal Palace saloon fire

StevieG (wearin suspenders) keepin his distance from the conflagration in virtual Tombstone Arizona, Second Life.

The candyman

He drops candy to Wisconsin Amish children from his plane.

From the collection of David Lade, Chicago IL

"Ben Hur"

Artist: Ed Paschke

Medium: Silkscreen

Stuck in Why

We left Tucson that morning feeling good about our trip to the Sea of Cortez in the upper most reaches of the Baja Peninsula. Our destination that day—Puerto Penasco--a sleepy Mexican seaport with a long stretch of white beach and interesting local beer joints.

Heading west along I-10, the desert stretched to the horizon on all sides. Occasionally, tin shacks of the Papago Indian Reservation dotted the side of the highway.

I had made this trip several times before, though never in a beater Chevy. Sure enough, three hours out of Tucson, the engine’s temperature gauge inched upward. 15 minutes later, a loud knocking in the engine; the car heaved like a wounded whale.

We pulled over, and flagged down a passing motorist. The man said he would notify a tower in Ajo to come pick us up. An hour later, Fred Nixon of Fred Nixon towing agency hooked the Chevy onto his truck and we were on our way. We had a look at the Map. The highway diverged in twenty miles at Why Arizona. “Just drop us off in Why. You can have the car,” Phil said. The dust from Fred’s truck lingered in the air a long time as he hightailed it out of Why, which was not exactly a town but rather a crossroads with one general store and gas station.

Dust devils formed a hundred yards out in the desert. Roadrunners skittered around near us as we stood under the sign “270 miles to Tucson.” We stuck out our thumbs at passing motorists. Having no luck, we approached an RV in the General Store parking lot and got the attention of the driver. “Hi there,” Phil said in the most pleasant voice he could muster. “We’re trying to get back to Tucson.”

The driver gave us a cold hard stare and said in a southern drawl, “Well, I don’t right like hitchhikers.” We explained that we're not really hitchhikers, but that our car had broke down. He had a few words with his wife, decided that we were ok, and told us to hop in. His Doberman Pincher kept us company in the back of the RV all the way back to Tucson.