1. [Redacted from private blog.]
This goes into the iron box with the fork. I’m done.
Yeah, it’s a buzz saw. I walked into it. Because I am immune, invisible, and bullet-proof.
I’m done. Moving into Forgiveness 401, which is this.
One of the fruits of sitting in the garden crocheting is you realize that solutions to your practical problems, as well as happiness and heaven, are at hand.
I have been dreaming of Dean Riddle’s garden, and having runner beans on bamboo tripods, for at least 10 years. Last year I planted them along the 120-degree Muralla del Muerto and they were toast.
I planted them in a better place this year.
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore– And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over– like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
— Langston Hughes
It might could grow in the desert. Where it is planted.