This pumpkin stand has been out about a week now on the side of the road I take to work.
I'm reading William Everson's Birth of a Poet again, and this morning:"If you think the cosmos is just a bunch of dead matter wheeling around and around in its own gyrations, a self-sufficient mechanism which just happened to happen, then nothing I say will make any sense at all. I am talking about the living presence of things, the unmistakable quivering energy alive in all things. Every form of apartness and togetherness is living and free, quivering and breathing. I bow before its majesty and before the living God, because the face of God is in everything."
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