This is the view from the front porch of the family house in New Hampster. With the birth of Amina it now has served seven generations of my family. It is called Hilltop.
The poem was written for Weaselboy when he was traveling last year.
Off the Map
Tell me about Pato
and
and why it is a million times better
than
Tell me about the squat,
How the light is refracted
by the crack in the window.
How the ideals of Anarchy
are mixed with flour for pancakes
for dinner
because that is what thee wants.
Tell me how the roots of life
spread beneath the surface
springing up in the dark corners
of the dirtiest parts of the cities
and blossom with revolution
fueled with vegan sweat.
Tell me this and more
on dumpstered paper postcards
sent back across the ocean
to the place thee is always missed.
SP
6 comments:
Seven generations?!!! That's quite a lot. My family would be on a whole different continent that far back. Nice view.
First thought: My god, what a magnificent view.
Second thought: (sigh) Oh, yes, I remember that.
Third thought: Wow is he lucky.
Fourth thought: "Off the Map", what a great little movie.
Home is always home.
--
Wow! what a view, I would just sit there all day LOOKING!!!!
Lovely words, so glad I've finally had chance to get here. Having a few problems with my computer, but I am about. Be back soon.
Carla- Thanks for stopping by. It is amazing how short generations can be but how different they are.
___
Marmy- I know they need to go but I miss them terribly when they're gone.
Marmy in a squat - she probably ruled the roost!
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PT- Home is the lucky part. Always good to see you.
___
Queenie- Welcome to the Nuthouse. Have enjoyed your blob and yes, I always knwe you knew Janet was a chicken.
That picture doesn't even begin to do Hilltop justice.
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