Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Wasteland


I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.


What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow?


Out of this stony rubbish?


Son of man, you cannot say, or guess, for you know only




A heap of broken images, where the sun beats....








Only there is shadow under this red rock

3 Comments:

Blogger Adam said...

Datta Dayadvhan Damyata

Good Stuff Dude

5:13 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

That's my high school alma mater rojo is playing against in the state championships in that last pic. We fumbled the ball on the 1 yd line as time ran out due to a nice hit by rojo.


I finally had that memory repressed until the fates cruelly reintroduced me to it.

11:44 PM  
Anonymous katherine said...

Johnny do you mind explaining this a bit? I don't know who a lot of those guys are, I'm assuming they are a bunch of kids we tried to recruit but ditched us or something. Explain please! Thanks and keep up the good work!

10:55 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home