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He thought he kept the universe alone;
For all the voice in answer he could wake
Was but the mocking echo of his own
From some tree-hidden cliff across the lake.
Some morning from the boulder-broken beach
He would cry out on life, that what it wants
Is not its own love back in copy speech,
But counter-love, original response.
And nothing ever came of what he cried
Unless it was the embodiment that crashed
In the cliff’s talus on the other side,
And then in the far distant water splashed,
But after a time allowed for it to swim,
Instead of proving human when it neared
And someone else additional to him,
As a great buck it powerfully appeared,
Pushing the crumpled water up ahead,
And landed pouring like a waterfall,
And stumbled through the rocks with horny tread,
And forced the underbrush–and that was all.
When all Earth’s seas shall Levitate,
Dark shawled within the skies,
Upon our eyes will Starfish dance
Their waltz of Blind surprise.
The sun will Rise within wine Dark
As Argonauts imbibed,
Whose drunken arms embrace that sleep
Where Phaeton’s horses Stride.
Upon all of Earth’s wind-sanded shores,
As dolphins Learn to soar,
All we once were on the land
Shall be sealed behind the door
Of Ivory and Chastened Gold,
That the Mystery solved complete
Shall never til the seas’ Long fall
Wake mariners from their sleep.
— Van der Leun
I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this
air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
— Walt Whitman
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
— The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot
Gerard Van der Leun
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close it on your thumb *once*…
As a firm believer in Murphy’s Law, buying Murphy’s Ladder just seems to be asking for trouble.
Another shitty ladder toy.
Not sure why storage is such a concern.
Get a Werner #300 fiberglass ladder and be done with it.
Yes, #300, so you can carry shit up the ladder without buckling the rungs.
Cris has a good point, but “Free chipping!”
Might this collapsible ladder’s name be derived from the hideaway Murphy bed?
I’m covered in the ladder department (last guy working at my branch when it closed down, told to ‘toss’ all the tools and gear… I picked up the best of the lot and stuffed my garage), but that was a funny commercial!
A foldable ladder that stores away AND can help me fight Rey Mysterio?
Sign me up. 👍🏻😆
The best ladder is one you use successfully. I have one of the Little Giant models, with all the attachments. It really works well. But it’s heavy and getting heavier. And honestly, I am not all thrilled about being at the top of an 18-foot ladder any more, even if I can place it where I want it. And if I need to use it indoors, I have to haul it in from the garage.
So even though I am well served in ladders, the Murphy has some interest for me. They are not inexpensive. But I could store one in the main floor closet easily. And it’s rated at 375 pounds, not your wimpy 300 pounder, Ghost.
I guess I could sell off some of the ladders I haven’t used in years. My Mexican neighbor across the street with the painting business might want some. And such a politically incorrect ad practically deserves my support.