Today Whitney Woolf sent me a poem. Today this morning I recorded the sounds of birds in a city park. The rare red-breasted cardinal. The even more elusive pigeon. The city crow. The robin. Aviary rarities, ahem..... Whitney Woolf's poem:
visit in your cadillac,
trimmed with lace and feathers
riding on the wings of a boa constrictor
suffocating on raw cat food
them thar hills smell fresh
absurdists can't be absurd all the time
then they'd be consistent.