Apres Moi, Le Deluge

Oft-quoted... oft mis-quoted... do you know what it really means??

Similar to Good Neighbours and Good Fences.
Do you think you know what this means??

It is always interesting to go back to the original source material to understand the context of something.

Often times - the original author is far more clever than the lazy interpreter.

Or.. then again.. maybe that is just me..

Father and Son Bye

People at rest.

They feel at ease

with Father's money.

Waiting....

We think not about death
While people drive home
People do not wait

One of my favourite masters of verse

Robert Penn Warren

Where - A Poem in Three Parts

Where it was not gently made.
They grow now....
where I once played.

Canada TSX EVA Company Investing

Here is an investing idea
EVA analysis of the Canadian TSX
Best results from a filter - a nice range of stocks and sectors

Let's see what happens!
The data points start on Apr 7, 2009




Cheers!

Illinoise nee Illinois - Sufjan Stevens

Where?
Think about it.
By threat, flee work.
Understand home gently.

My addition to the universe of poetry on a Sunday Morn basking in the sun.I wrote this while listening to Sufjan Stevens' brilliant creation of 2005 - Illinois.

His self-stated goal is to produce a recording about of each of the
states. This is his second.. a long journey to undertake.
That being said.. what a brilliant melange of thoughts and themes
I particularly love Chicago.


Give this a listen.. the entire journey is the way to go with this album.
Kinda like classic Velvet Underground.. no dipping in and sampling.

ol' e.e. cummings - Somewhere.....

Old e.e. has accompanied me all over the world. He strikes a chord in all manner of locale and circumstance.. poignant.. thoughtful.. happy.. sad..

I was looking at pics from my visit to China.. and thought you might like this poem!

Read this tiny jewel.. is it perfect.. or what??

e.e. cummings - somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands