Althouse: Sunset.

November 10, 2013

Sunset.

15 comments:

Kirby Olson said...: John 14:6 "Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me."; 11/10/13, 4:45 PM
David said...: Commentary on the Packer season?; 11/10/13, 4:45 PM
m stone said...: Our city council is voting on the addition of "gender identity or expression" being added to the local non-discrimination ordinance.

If the ordinance passes, any man could claim to believe himself a woman and go into a women's restroom or locker room whether he actually "suffers" from the gender disorder or not.

This included any "public accommodations" including churches.

For the sweet little California preteens who think gays are "so cute"...try this for size.

This is suburban Wisconsin. The policy was initiated by a recently-elected gay councilman.

Thoughts?; 11/10/13, 7:37 PM
Anonymous said...: Below This Spectacular Sunset The Grass is Writhing with Snake-Rabbits. They are Pernicious, Wriggling Ceaselessly through the Dirt, Their Brown Fur Hiding Them Until They are at Your Feet, All Fluffy-Tailed and Fanged. You Can Suck the Poison Out, Of Course, But There Are So Many of Them, So Many.; 11/11/13, 5:16 AM
Anonymous said...: Two Snake-Rabbits Can Take Down an Averaged-Sized Dog. The Venom Causes Fierce Hallucinations, So Now the Dog Looks Like an Acid Casualty at a Grateful Dead Concert. Dogs Do Not Understand They are Hallucinating: the Sky Full of Gigantic Bats is Real to Them, Real and Terrifying.; 11/11/13, 5:20 AM
Anonymous said...: The Dogs Chase in Circles the Circling Gigantic Bats: They Must Protect the Others. In Truth, They are Flinging Themselves Upward, Teeth Bared, at an Empty Sky.; 11/11/13, 5:22 AM
Anonymous said...: The Snake-Rabbits Make Their Way Past the Hallucinating Dogs and Head for the Nearest Homes, Where they Will Hide in the Warmth of Mailboxes and Laundry Baskets and Kitchen Cabinets Right Behind the Salt and Pepper.; 11/11/13, 5:25 AM
Anonymous said...: Opening the Kitchen Cabinet You Might Think -- After the Initial Shock -- That There is a Giant Rat There, Behind the Salt and Pepper. Then you See the Twitchy Nose and Bunny Ears and Think: Ahhhh, a Widdle Widdle Wabbit, How Cute. Cute, Until it Uncoils its Legless Snake Body onto the Kitchen Counter, Culminating in a Fluffy CottonTail. And Now it is Hissing.; 11/11/13, 5:33 AM
Anonymous said...: The Snake Rabbit Lives For Two Things: to Eat Lettuce and to Bite Anything in Sight.; 11/11/13, 5:34 AM
Anonymous said...: You Are In Sight. And it Is Faster Than You Are.; 11/11/13, 5:35 AM
Anonymous said...: It Takes a Special Kind of Courage to Live Near These Fields, No Matter How Spectacular the Sunsets Might Be.; 11/11/13, 5:37 AM
Anonymous said...: The Meat of the Snake-Rabbit is Sublime, However. Their Sumtuous Taste makes Them a Particularly Desired Prey of Their Enemy, the Feral Spider-Cat.; 11/11/13, 5:42 AM
Anonymous said...: Perhaps We'll Leave the Details of the Feral Spider-Cat for Another Time.

Just Remember: Be careful of What You Pet.; 11/11/13, 5:44 AM
Rusty said...: Perfect metaphor for the United States.

Freedom and independence were fun, but now it's time to serve the State.; 11/11/13, 7:17 AM
JOB said...: Nine Lessons in Landscape-Watching

I
Watch the land curl around a couple buckets of old paint:
Whorls of tree, cloud, hill and plain make their acquaintance
With the crow’s hueless shadow and the robin’s blue nature.

II
Make this tree a trigonometric persuasion of song;
Make this gently sloping hill the tumid topography of antiphons.
Sweet tubers of melody grow madly certain in loam’s richness.

III
See that overlap of a sky’s azure dish and creamy clouds?
What better imitates the fused cohesion of the sun’s ambitions
Spread across the venues and vistas of an open-fisted apple orchard?

IV
The lone figure on the far green hill is a man full of perhaps.
How well this man snaps into the world’s perfectly becoming metaphor.
But neither man nor world are as certainly there as the watchful sun.

V
Where shadows creep toward the zero hour, noon’s perfect template,
Leafy gnomons, conical conifers and rough rhomboids are ascendant and aslant.
Let trees be their own geometry. Let pollards be lemmas to the proof.

VI
“Wait,” says the eye to the scene filled with passing eloquence,
“I have not had my fill of feasting on the colored things or the things
Draped by the wind.” But it is too late. Time is the only landscape of the mind.

VII
This too is a fox’s fable: the changing light of autumn
Once dwelt in exile, a spy among rabbit warrens, much like a mole
In a gopher tunnel, sowing the big bones of a wilderness.

VIII
One asks a question of the landscape: “Is it better to sit
As still as the eye of a pike in the eye of a pond in the eye of the sky,
Or to be the blur of scales in blue water blurred by drapes of wind?”

IX
Observe: if the landscape is winter, you too will be the winter.
And if the summer, you too will be the summer by proxy.
But if the landscape is changing, you will be the landscape.; 11/11/13, 11:32 AM