adventure unhinged whatever makes me smile 100609 ... ovenbird I have been told that the things I count as my life’s grandest adventures are the predilections of a waning hag on her way to an uninspiring death: My bed, docked at a berth on the edge of evening, my quarters stocked with books and blank paper and no less than three fountain pens, recently filled with ink, tea kept hot in an insulated mug, telegrams sent mind to mind over the ocean, ideas like whitecaps breaking, poems fluking against a pink streaked sky, and four unbroken hours to take it all in before sleep calls me to its side. If I am a hag, so be it. I’ll watch the birds and make soup in my biggest pot and if death comes with little fanfare I’ll count myself lucky and go willingly to my final dream. 260817 what's it to you? who go blather from