![That Was the Whopper Weekend That Was [Illustrated]](https://americandigest.org/wp/wp-content/uploads/2021/05/welcometohell-150x150.jpg "That Was the Whopper Weekend That Was [Illustrated]")
Lay down these words
Before your mind like rocks.
placed solid, by hands
In choice of place, set
Before the body of the mind
in space and time:
Solidity of bark, leaf, or wall
riprap of things:
Cobble of milky way.
straying planets,
These poems, people,
lost ponies with
Dragging saddles –
and rocky sure-foot trails.
The worlds like an endless
four-dimensional
Game of Go.
ants and pebbles
In the thin loam, each rock a word
a creek-washed stone
Granite: ingrained
with torment of fire and weight
Crystal and sediment linked hot
all change, in thoughts,
As well as things.
Gary Snyder
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
— BY THEODORE ROETHKE
The scientists are in terror
and the European mind stops
Wyndham Lewis chose blindness
rather than have his mind stop.
Night under wind mid garofani,
the petals are almost still
Mozart, Linnaeus, Sulmona,
When one’s friends hate each other
how can there be peace in the world?
Their asperities diverted me in my green time.
A blown husk that is finished
but the light sings eternal
a pale flare over marshes
where the salt hay whispers to tide’s change
Time, space,
neither life nor death is the answer.
And of man seeking good,
doing evil.
In meiner Heimat
where the dead walked
and the living were made of cardboard.
His soul stretched tight across the skies
That fade behind a city block,
Or trampled by insistent feet
At four and five and six o’clock;
And short square fingers stuffing pipes,
And evening newspapers, and eyes
Assured of certain certainties,
The conscience of a blackened street
Impatient to assume the world.
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.
Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.
— Eliot
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
Gerard Van der Leun
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I lived on the island of Mauritius for about 9 months. On the street outside my apartment complex were Mango trees that created a canopy like the elm trees used to in the midwest.
You had to be careful walking under those trees. Mangos would just fall and hit the street with a thud. If they hit your head, they would’ve knocked you unconscious.
I likes me sum mango’s.
The perfect fruit if I say so myself.
Guess I was just lucky, some people – not so much.
My sister in law for example.
She’s from Hoosiervile and when visiting Florida she ate a slice of fresh mango and swole up bigger’n Stuttgart, had to get ambulanced to the hospital – was critical for a few hours. Took weeks to get back to normal.
But not me. I could eat mangoes everyday and have, in the past. When I was a kid living on Lagg Av in Fort Myers we had mango trees in the yard. So many mango’s that never got ate, landed in the yard. Hit em with the mower and the giant nut would go flying. Would take out the neighbors windshield, if you were lucky. If it went backwards it would blow a foot off. Careful there hoss. Russian roulette with a mower. Same sister in law hit a rock and it burned a 3″ hole all the way through her calf. That left a mark. Diff hospital.
Buy a mango and just hold it and stare at it. A perfectly ripe mango is a treasure to the eye. Try it. Study the coloration, up close. Amazing. Nature is the original Rembrandt, on steroids. red-orange-yellow-green. WoW!
Peeling a mango is an art. Like filleting a catfish in midair. The farther you go the harder it gets, til your done, or the whole thing hits the floor. Hold both over the sink, damage control. I’ve wondered if a mango is a hybrid. Peach, cantelope, and something else. Can’t figure out what the something else is. And the cantelope part is specious. Don’t like cantelope. The very thought makes me heave. A shame too, cause the best cantelope farm in the world is about a mile from here, right next to the Bean Blossom covered bridge. Bud Smith’s place. They sell em for $3 along the road. As big as basketballs. My wife gnaws on one for a week as half the fridge is rented out to it the whole time. Maybe I ought to try a cantelope again since I haven’t tasted one since I was a kid half a century ago. Maybe I will, this year, when I see Bud out by the road. If I like em, and eat enough of them, maybe I’ll start to look like Trump. Nah. That wouldn’t be good. Who needs the bullshit? So I’ll alternate. Cantelope 1 week, Mango the next. All summer long. And orange juice all down my front, all the time. Where da honey bees iz?
That…was actually kind of fun. Kudos to them.
The mango is a lie.
Okay, you can only see the picture if you have your tablet in portrait mode. Otherwise, the full picture never loads, and you cannot scroll down to see it.
Weird.
Mangos make the fart grow stronger
The. Silliest. Thing. that I’ve seen in a long time…
Re: mango allergies, mango skins that are unripe contain urushiol, just like poison ivy and (ripe) alligator pear skins. Also mango stem sap has it.
So if you pick mangos, wear gloves, and if you eat mangos, make sure they are totally ripe. And don’t eat the skins.
Of course, some people do not have any problems, ever, just like some people never get poison ivy.
Despite the date, I’m assuming suburbanbanshee is not pulling our legs (stems?) about the poisonous mango skins.
Loved the Mango Tango!
Yup, the mango skin thing is true. But although I did once manage to get itchy fingers from peeling a produce sticker off an alligator pear, I have gnawed mango off the inner side of a mango skin before, with no ill effects. Apparently the ill effects can get impressive with unripe mango, so I was lucky.
Anyway, that is why you see tv chefs chopping off the skins or even using frozen mango. They do not want to be That Guy.