Do you want to be good or feel good? You saying I can't be both? Ha. What's good, anyway. They say greed is good, they say evil is good. They bet on everything, who's gonna live, who's gonna die. It's all a game. Oh boy, sorry I asked.

Here's the part they generally leave out. 

As I went walking I saw a sign there,
And on the sign it said "No Trespassing."
But on the other side it didn't say nothing.
That side was made for you and me.

In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people,
By the relief office I seen my people;
As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking
Is this land made for you and me?

Nobody living can ever stop me,
As I go walking that freedom highway;
Nobody living can ever make me turn back
This land was made for you and me.

Woody Guthrie

 god shed his grace on thee.

 Being that it's Easter Sunday the fire alarm may be going off all day. The regime is escalating all the while the people of the empire eat their ham. There is a rumor they may vaporize the enemy with a nuclear bomb. As many psychopaths as we've had in the past, the present one takes the cake. Ashes to ashes, we all fall down.

 I want to say something about Hamnet, but then I think about the chron, and about when the Shakespeare teacher in college said I look like one of the ones who would play the girl in Shakespeare's play. I though he was saying I'm gay, but he was merely illustrating the kind of person they would choose to play the part of a girl when girls could not be on stage. Besides that, Hamnet is a wonderful world really, more than a movie, it is a transport into a world that becomes familiar suddenly that may have remained distant and strange, in another language that our present one came from, a kind of startling return to a different distant and intimately familiar stage. I wonder are we still evolving and what into. Come and see the hope and change.

 Sometimes I concentrate on other things, things other than the things I see before me, things that are distantly related to other things I'm called to think about, things I can't articulate. 

 Easter morning. The alarm is on and he is risen. I hear the alarm as one with the ringing in my ears. It's not the same. Nothing is the same. I recall easter morning in Decatur, a basket of eggs, gleaning the green back yard, sitting on the back stoop, holding my sister on my lap. Then I fell out of bed and broke my head. Present, presently, I was present in the future then. I didn't know it. I never thought of the future then I only thought of the moment like a young dog. I only think of the future as a present now, in a basket like the past. I think of a boy asking why but I don't think the boy is me, I never asked why out loud I only asked why inside. I was like an egg, terrified of cracking.