Tired of wading through the open sewer of this society? This will heal you. (Via The New Neo)
Tired of wading through the open sewer of this society? This will heal you. (Via The New Neo)
Address for Donations, Complaints, Brickbats, and — oh yes — Donations
Your Say
Where the Sidewalk Ends
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
by Shel Silverstein
My Back Pages
Search American Digest’s Back Pages
The People Yes
The steel mill sky is alive.
The fire breaks white and zigzag
shot on a gun-metal gloaming.
Man is a long time coming.
Man will yet win.
Brother may yet line up with brother:
This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.
There are men who can’t be bought.
The fireborn are at home in fire.
The stars make no noise,
You can’t hinder the wind from blowing.
Time is a great teacher.
Who can live without hope?
In the darkness with a great bundle of grief
the people march.
In the night, and overhead a shovel of stars for keeps, the people
march:
“Where to? what next?”
— Carl Sandberg
The Vault
Real World Address for Donations, Mash Notes and Hate Mail
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Very moving, watching that little live bird hatching and clinging to life, a miracle. I have seen baby chicks hatch out however I never knew birds had a belly button which makes total sense. (as I posted on Neo NeoCon) I appreciate all your sites, and thank you.
Best thing I’ve seen today.
Thank you.
JWM
Amazing, you can see a heartbeat in that fluid mass, at 2:00.
Excellent!
I was raised on a small farm. I recall saving/helping or attempting to save all sorts of birds and other creatures. The smallest was a nest of quail eggs. The mother was killed and eaten by a hawk. I think there were four eggs or maybe five in the nest. With my mothers help we raised them all.
Yep, that’s what we horrid white people do.
I love things like that because I believe that is how we are truly supposed to be. That salvation took a lot of time and work but now it exists to remind all of us of what a little love and attention can do.
Ok, that one made my eyes water. And I’ve never raised anything but blisters in my 63 years. Well done. Healing is right, when that little critter took wing, I was inspired. Will have to go and search what sort of feeding it requires.