That epitaph

[Don Higgins]

'He wish'd but for a middling Life,
Forever in betwixt
The claims of Lust and Duty,
So intricately mix'd,—
To reach some happy Medium,
Fleet as a golden Beam,
Uncharted as St. Brendan's Isle,
Fugitive as a Dream.
Alas, 'twas not so much the Years
As Day by thieving Day,—
With Debts incurr'd, and Interest Due,
That Dreams were sold to pay,—
Until at last, but one remain'd,
Too modest to have Worth,
That yet he holds within his heart,
As he is held, in Earth.' 

--- On Tue, 11/20/12, David Morris <fqmorris at gmail.com> wrote:

From: David Morris <fqmorris at gmail.com>
Subject: Re: That epitaph
To: "Markekohut" <markekohut at yahoo.com>
Cc: "Michael Bailey" <michael.lee.bailey at gmail.com>, "pynchon -l" <pynchon-l at waste.org>
Date: Tuesday, November 20, 2012, 2:51 PM

Maybe too long, but its good:
history as it's been laid on the world is only a fraction, an outward-and-visible fraction. That we must also look to the untold, to the silence around us, to the passage of the next rock we notice - to its aeons of history under the long and female persistence of water and air (who'll be there, once or twice per century, to trip the shutter?), down to the lowland where your paths, human and mineral, are most likely to cross....


On Mon, Nov 19, 2012 at 7:49 AM, Markekohut <markekohut at yahoo.com> wrote:

Maybe I should reserve---but it is open source, commons license---" the progressive knotting-into

has been unravelled".      .(by Time) ?



Sent from my iPad

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