Overreach

William Blake, 1793

It's a cloudy Monday morning in the southland, and things are changing in these parts. Some you know about and some you don't, but I have a great sense of expectation and hope in nearly all areas. In fact, if I were a Miss America contestant on a stage and asked by the guy who asks these things, What do you most want in the world? I might say World peace! with a big silly grin on my face and a flick of my blonde hair.

Here's a poem:

To converse with the greats

To converse with the greats
by trying their blindfolds on;
to correspond with books
by rewriting them;
to edit holy edicts,
and at the midnight hour
to talk with the clock by tapping a wall
in the solitary confinement of the universe.

Vera Pavlova