Saturday, April 21, 2012

looking around

WHEN I was younger
it was plain to me
I must make something of myself.
Older now
I walk back streets
admiring the houses
of the very poor:
roof out of line with sides
the yards cluttered 
with old chicken wire, ashes,
furniture gone wrong;
the fences and outhouses
built of barrel staves
and parts of boxes, all,
if I am fortunate,
smeared a bluish green 
that properly weathered
pleases me best of all colors.

No one
will believe this
of vast import to the nation.


words - william carlos williams (via someone else)
pictures - hello sandwich, 52 (world) suburbs, ffffound

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