by Emily Dickenson
Wild Nights – Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile – the winds – To a heart in port – Done with the compass – Done with the chart! Rowing in Eden – Ah, the sea! Might I moor – Tonight – In thee!
Almost all have finished flowering. There are still a lot of blooms on one of the Poohs. But the rest have none, or just one or two.
When to the career retrospective at the Hirshorn. Perhaps the most enjoyable exhibit I’ve ever seen.
https://hirshhorn.si.edu/exhibitions/laurie-anderson-the-weather/
by Emily Dickenson
I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you – Nobody – too? Then there's a pair of us! Don't tell! they'd advertise – you know! How dreary – to be – Somebody! How public – like a Frog – To tell one's name – the livelong June – To an admiring Bog!
by Peter Axthelm
The story of the 1970 New York Knicks run to the championship, interspersed with the stories of many NYC playground legends who never found their way to fame and fortune.
Loved it. The best book I’ve read I’ve quite some time.
Edited by Mary Pilon and Louisa Thomas
Fun read about selected athletes who lost.
by Henry David Thoreau
Among the signs of autumn I perceive The Roman wormwood (called by learned men Ambrosia elatior, food for gods,— For to impartial science the humblest weed Is as immortal once as the proudest flower—) Sprinkles its yellow dust over my shoes As I cross the now neglected garden. —We trample under foot the food of gods And spill their nectar in each drop of dew— My honest shoes, fast friends that never stray Far from my couch, thus powdered, countryfied, Bearing many a mile the marks of their adventure, At the post-house disgrace the Gallic gloss Of those well dressed ones who no morning dew Nor Roman wormwood ever have been through, Who never walk but are transported rather— For what old crime of theirs I do not gather.