today. one of those perfect days for the books. some xtra pollen in case but everthing is in bloom, grape hyacinth, etc, vinca, so i opened to one of my fave poems, ee cummings, 'o purple finch, please tell me why, ' etc. etc. so i sat down actually on the bed, stretched out, & began to think about it. this morning i had thought about how Julie Christie was losing her looks, etc. but then i got to thinking, why a purple finch?
do p. finches know any more than the rest of us? ans. No. mainly they know how to sing. going on from there, i been studying the work of jacob needleman, & it leads somewhere, not purple finches.
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