Pastoral

When I was younger 
it was plain to me 
I must make something of myself. 
Older now 
I walk back streets 
admiring the houses 
of the very poor: 
roof out of line with sides 
the yards cluttered 
with old chicken wire, ashes, 
furniture gone wrong; 
the fences and outhouses 
built of barrel staves 
and parts of boxes, all, 
if I am fortunate, 
smeared a bluish green 
that properly weathered 
pleases me best of all colors

               No one 
will believe this
of vast import to the nation.

–William Carlos Williams

—

You were probably imagining barely standing walls, bric-a-brac; maybe some knee-high grass amidst patches of dirt (Imagism).

I’ve tried to distill the idea further down to color saturation, no ownership (nor pride of ownership), but rather an ever-present, creative vandalism.

Thanks for looking…