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