Round Earth Policy

One thing I like about the world is that it's round, and I wish that
more people could take the journey around to come back upon themselves.

Paper Caper

Paper Caper

Paper is a caper, but with pen, a friend. I write for the right to say
what's right on my mind. Without the write, I'm not blind, from the
side I'm just fine. Flow, like sweat from my brow, and I wonder if I'm
frown. Davis on the mic, hot sweaty and smooth, like butter on corn
eaten down at noon. Moon you say, in the sky last night? No clouds, no
rain, until I hit the bed. Pillow so soft, on the cradle of the land,
let's my hand flow with words, "Woodford" you say. Economical. Great.
Greed. Lean. Fatty, like liver after too many reds. Reds, like dreads,
like an inside joke - shared to be funny with funny Woodford folk.
Ford, like Henry, drives me here, field with tent, otherwise middle of
nowhere. That's what makes me write on this day, on a brown paper bag
with little filter, and little lag. Paper now low, and verbs almost
spent. But sweat still rolls, like the wheels of descent. All that,
and a bag of chips, and a little happieness - the tension between
epxectations and place, give away the race.

@ Woodford, 29 December 2009

Space

Space

Space. Three dimensions in front of all. Maybe more? Animated by time.
Positions move, and swap, and change. Yet also it's a void, but not
one to avoid, but one to explore. The universe is creativity, and yet
I fall back on old lines, along old lines of descent and ascent. Lines
that are truly curved by the gravity of the situation, and the time it
takes to size it all up. Space - when will we all get there? Yet what
would we do without it?

@ Woodford, 29 December 2009