Shelves
However many shelves we build,
We load them up with books
And when the new shelves all are filled
Cast eyes on empty nooks
In which to wedge in still more shelves
To hold more books; you see,
Through shelf life we may save ourselves
By reading endlessly.
Apologia pro domo sua
I’m not in any rush to paint the place.
There are much worse in town. Besides, the peels
are on the backyard, weather side. Why care?
There is good cedar siding underneath.
It lasts, or so I’m told. We’ll have to see.
I’ll take a penknife to it come next spring
and if it’s soft replace a board or two
and slap some primer on them. Good as new,
except they’ll stand out bone white. Reckoning
can be put off so long, and then the fee
comes due. I’ll hang a withered Christmas wreath
and let the swallows build a nest in there.
An old house should have character. It feels
right, sparing once again its weathered face.
Big Wahoo to Little Wahoo
“More Companies Are Buying Bitcoin, Betting on Rewards Over Risks”
—The New York Times
The South Sea Bubble’s back again,
And you’ll recall that crash,
When Pope, the poet, saw a gain
But Newton lost his stash.
Sir Isaac tracked the stars, but muffed
Investment 101;
He bit what cagy anglers puffed.
Avoid that crypto, son.