In 1935 or there abouts a Mr. E. Hemingway of Oak Park Illinois, 

        a writer by trade, said of “Huckleberry Finn” that all modern American 

        literature comes from that book. At this time though, I must disagree with

        Mr. Hemingway who I hold now and ever in deepest reverence and awe.

                       Huck Finn came out in 1885 so Hemingway was writing about 

        it on the 50th anniversary of its publication. I have read that book more times

        than I can count and it remains ever fresh and wonderful. The Art of that book,

        the disrobing of the human condition, the simple truth about American culture,

        the concision of writing, the humor, humanity, empathy and plain old wonder 

        of it all, inhabits every page. It is a free standing miracle and in its own unique way, 

        a terrifying work of prophecy as the truth often is. And it is an original work, 

        a designation un-deservedly applied to many pretenders.

                 The disagreement, what is the disagreement? I'll tell ya.;Hemingway said 

       Huck Finn/Twain was the source and others say, Hemingway was the source.

        I don't know what Twain said on the matter. Could he have realized the innovation

       he authored? I don't know.

                                                      But now me, 

                                            What do I say about this? 

                                                       I'll tell ya,

                                                Gettysburg Address

              Like the best and greatest of poems, that which it expresses cannot be 

       expressed or explained any better. Its concision is breathtaking. One might 

       believe Lincoln was double parked and or had a hot date. The economy, brevity,

       humanity and punch in the face truth contained in those263 words is the

      unsurpassed acme of modern American literature.

                                   But, what is said?

                                               What is said?

                                    Read It.

                                   All of our problems

                                   In 2020, are right there

                                    Read IT

                                   Slowly, and then read IT again

                                   Juan put it as a footer

                                   On every page of the site.

                                   Juan is a genius

                                   Read IT until you can recite IT in the shower

                                   Read it til you weep

                                   Recite IT as you're watching

                                   what passes now for news. 


                Any first grade student of Buddhism learns, attachment to permanence

         creates impermanence. Let no one of us believe the ground beneath our feet

         permanent or even stable. There lies the source of destruction.

               The past is difficult and not subject to change. Symbols and gestures,

         songs and slogans, speeches and op-eds can wither like flowers in a vase.

                                Concentrate and strive for things real

                                    But ask yourself......what is real?

                                                                     what matters?

                                 Can you know the Truth if you see it?

                                                                     if you heard it? 

                                     That's tough......tough as it gets.

                Maybe our time is better spent identifying untruths. I don't think so 

         but, maybe. If you can find any in the Gettysburg Address of Nov,1863,

         please let us know.





                                                                                  Folks from Ardensville

      6/27/2020                                                           (never a soap box)   

                                  Another Corona Bulletin                 


           Dang ! I thought too many stores were closed before? Now,

   it's like an unused Hollywood set out there. So sad. So sad.

          A friend sent me a sad song this morning. He expressed a

   cathartic power in this song which caused him to weep for the

   travail of the past not few weeks. It should be noted here that the

   song was not in his language and indeed a very complex spectrum

   of cultural influences.

         Okay, didn't hit my buttons and I can see why it might another.

    What language was it? Sadness, a most common tongue.

    Loosely understood, a rainbow is the prismatic articulation of the

    constituent colors of white light when passed through water 

   molecules. Damn I hope I got that right. ROY G BIV.

         Sung in sadness using the recombined colors of diverse

    cultures and what do you get? Blues. 

                                  Everybody knows the blues.

                                                                 Don't You?

                                  Everywhere knows the blues.

                                                                  Don't We?

        Oppression.   B.T. Washington says no one can be oppressed 

   without their consent (hope I got that right) . A difficult notion.

    Of course,  Mr. Washington knows of what he speaks. I say the

   mountain is named for him. 

        Oppression is when you're getting your ass kicked for no 

   reason. Nothing you perpetrated. Punishment for no offense.

        American Blues is a body of work sown in oppression and 

   sung in sadness. Its creators saw who held the cane. 

       Now, a different though not quite novel oppression saturates

   the earth. We do not see the cane or who holds it. We see only the

   spent and vacant forms of our sisters and brothers.

       If one does not hear the blues now, if one does not sing the

   blues now, possibly that one has no soul. Such things can happen.


                                                       Reach down and scream

                                                       Even if no one hears

                                                       Peace in the Valley

                                                                        and Health

                                                                     and Community

                                                          Souls are on the March




             An'another thing !!;        If we're going to wear masks, 

                                                            and we should, 


                                                    let's all smile 

    4/22/2020                                                with our eyes.

Just recently just, upon the recommendation of someone at my job,

     I read, “The Allegory of the Cave” by Plato. Was that his first or last

     name? Don't know.

        I found it in a jiff on-line: in different translations and formats. I read a

    bunch of them. Not a hardship. 15 or 20 minutes well spent. Not at all

    time wasted and the elation of intellectual reward has yet to dim. 

    I doubt it ever shall. The piece is about public perception, mostly kinda.

         Though his focus might have been on human nature(?), with amazing

    impossible accuracy, Plato predicts the media jones we immolate

    ourselves in now. 2400 years old this ditty is. How do you do that? 

    I don't know. Really I don't.

          Now do We live in a time of prophecies realized. Or not. I think I'm

    informed about things and maybe I'm not. That's bad. I see people around

    me who are not informed – some through ambivalence and some by

    choice. Either one, that's bad too.

          Is Gaia done with us? Sick up and fed with us? Had it up to here!! 

          It might be the grossest immodesty for a generation to say, 

    “Boy o' boy, it's never been this bad. We are in some deep shit now!”

     But ya know what? Boy o' boy it's never been this bad. We are in some

     deep shit now.

          I can't look at the news and I can't not. If great justice is inevitable, 

     We in some deep shit now.

           But, then there is Celia.

                                              Celia on the good foot.

                                                     Celia on the good foot now.

         Your response(s) to both “The Air” & “Nation” have been outstanding.

    For this we are grateful. Thank You.

                                                             Let's All go for a walk.

                                                                   Forget answers

                                                                         Seek questions

       3/07/2020                                    Folksizhome 

Debt. Debt is the thing most sited to be insufficiently represented

      on the list of things that make us nuts in the “Nation” article. I confess 

      the failure to recognize debt as the pitch fork poking demon that it is for

      many Folks is a subjective oversight on my part. Okay.

                                We once indulged

                                      the Vice of debt

                                 But now We don't no mo'

              I wrote in the article “Scrapes”, a while back, that electronic 

      billboards were replacing paper billboards thus eliminating the

       possibility of organic real Art. I find lately one of the sequential 

      offering of this highly evolved medium is this kind of board approved 

      poetry and some of it might be alright however I read 3 or 4 lines and

      then the screen changes to an ad about something I must have or do to

      be a content, secure and upwardly mobile person.

               Now c'mon you poets, get with it. Learn to write poetry like 

       advertising copy or be swallowed whole by the great snake of 

       efficiency. You(s) have been warned !

               We welcome JJ Pinckney to the stoop, the porch, the crew.

       I found him and find him a charged painter and creator. Good Luck to

       Us. I hope you enjoy him as do we.

               The Folks in Ardensville are breaking the surface like Crocus in

      springtime now.  And away we go.........


                                                                                 Believe that


Absurd. Even the word is sorta absurd. Absurd. 

             I embrace absurd. Don't condescend or dismiss it. How could I?

    For I, am just that. I am absurd, an absurd person. 'Magine that, hm, m, m.

             Some of you may have noticed, the cover page – nowadadaze

   sensibly referred to as “home”, has been altered. Though Robin's image

   of Celia and Petra holding an Ardensville banner, - now something like 

   a brand name and a fine one at that- still appears, now, upon coming to 

   the site one is confronted by a hippopotamus in a tutu considering the

   Empire State Building. Hmmm, I always consider that spire when I see it.


             Make no mistake: this is a photograph. A photograph. This sight,

    the moment, this reality, now preserved in golden amber – happened.

    Bet on it.

              Shall you dismiss it and stamp “absurd”? You may do that.

                  Please, feel free. Stamp it, be my guest. 

                                               Then, turn that stamp 

                                                        upon yourself for 

                                                              We are all  absurd.

               Bulletin to myself....;

     The responses (all positive) to “Talking Goose” and “Nation of Geniuses”, 

     have been, to me, remarkable. So many interpretations. Yesterday, a very

     nice woman told me “Nation” was the truth. It just don't get better'n that.

              Ardensville is rolling now. There are such things as wondrous

     places. Places out of time and beyond reason. Places absurd. Bet on it. 


                                         And the crooked places shall be made straight,

                                                                Folks from Ardensville,

                                                                                     Get in touch,

  1/22//2020                                                                            Stay in touch.

  "Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate — we cannot consecrate — we cannot hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation shall have a new birth of freedom and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth."