Well hang it all Robert Browning I can’t find my scrofulous French novels!
Dag Nabbit, Ludwig VB, your piano concertos are too darned beautiful!
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The little boy me, blind and alone, used to put his head inside the works of a grandfather clock.
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“how sad and bad and mad it was – but then, how it was sweet”
― Robert Browning
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Elegy
Washing birds is the work of the gods
They’ve been at it some thirty thousand years
One may reasonably believe
Birds were not clean
Before rain gods came
I stand before a plate glass window
Drinking coffee from a paper cup
Many of my friends are gone
Leaves whirl under a streetlamp
Death’s butterflies
I’ve a hymn in mind
Called I Must be Home by Now…
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“Take away love and our earth is a tomb.”
― Robert Browning
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Beethoven invented Ragtime.
Planet of the Blind 