<Mountainous Heathen!>

FARMERS AT HEART

the walk i went on tonight was with a different company. and really, before any porches, any windows into random people's lives, and before the windy streets, the company is what makes the walk. we found an apple tree bursting with apples and two persimmon trees, both very unripe. we made note of each house, so that we can go back to them sometime. every time we tried to attempt picking any, we stopped and noticed that there were people watching...looking at us..with their eeeeyyes. betty was afraid they'd notice her gimp limp, my shiny pants, and jenny's whiteness.

my mom and i are farmers at heart. my dad used to be a farmer too, but now he's too impacient for the nitt and gritt and is consoled by his artsy readings. and by consoled, i mean stirred up. because after all, being consoled is not a likely goal for any of us. the goal is to be stirred, to yearn for the find, and find. although that is not to say he doesn't enjoy the grapes of wrath and labour. and oh, is there wrath!

someday, i'll have a big garden with a little house maybe. with orchards, trees, vines, strawberry fields. hm, no, maybe i should just buy a farm. and when you come to visit, all we'll do is walk around in the orchard, and come back home for some crumpets and tea.

as you can tell, the weekend alone makes me domesticated. such is the effect of living on northside, by the rich hippies.

mountainous heathen!
holly girl jennyman cyrus boyk sina boy robert reich honey jaan Prufrock If Afraid So Today's poem		~ Sunday, September 12, 2004 FARMERS AT HEART the walk i went on tonight was with a different company. and really, before any porches, any windows into random people's lives, and before the windy streets, the company is what makes the walk. we found an apple tree bursting with apples and two persimmon trees, both very unripe. we made note of each house, so that we can go back to them sometime. every time we tried to attempt picking any, we stopped and noticed that there were people watching...looking at us..with their eeeeyyes. betty was afraid they'd notice her gimp limp, my shiny pants, and jenny's whiteness. my mom and i are farmers at heart. my dad used to be a farmer too, but now he's too impacient for the nitt and gritt and is consoled by his artsy readings. and by consoled, i mean stirred up. because after all, being consoled is not a likely goal for any of us. the goal is to be stirred, to yearn for the find, and find. although that is not to say he doesn't enjoy the grapes of wrath and labour. and oh, is there wrath! someday, i'll have a big garden with a little house maybe. with orchards, trees, vines, strawberry fields. hm, no, maybe i should just buy a farm. and when you come to visit, all we'll do is walk around in the orchard, and come back home for some crumpets and tea. as you can tell, the weekend alone makes me domesticated. such is the effect of living on northside, by the rich hippies. posted by ...me at 11:08 PM