weather?

3 winters ago...still riding,

> still ridin aroun', only slipped on the ice n' snow twice, mastery of the zen way, relaxed hands at all times, even in uneven tracks of cars on busy streets with black ice covered by dirty fresh unploughed snow
> raging agaisnt the dying of the light
> inspired by william burroughs and kerouac> >

211th Chorus
The wheel of the quivering meat
conception
Turns in the void expelling human beings,
Pigs, turtles, frogs, insects, nits,
Mice, lice, lizards, roan
Racinghorses, poxy bucolic pigtics,
Horrible unnameable lice of vultures,
Murderous attacking dog-armies
Of Africa, Rhinos roaming in the
jungle,
Vast boars and huge gigantic bull
Elephants, rams, eagles, condors,
pones and Porcupines and Pills--
All the endless conception of living
beings
Gnashing everywhere in Consciousness
Throughout the ten directions of space
Occupying all the quarters in & out,
From supermicroscopic no-bug
To huge Galaxy Lightyear Bowell
Illuminating the sky of one Mind--
Poor ! I wish I was free
of that slaving meat wheel
and safe in heaven dead

> > from Mexico City Blues>

R.S. Thomas via The Manics

Reflections

 The Furies are at home in the mirror; it is their address. Even the clearest water, if deep enough, can drown. Never think to surprise them. Your face approaching ever so friendly is the white flag they ignore. There is no truce with the Furies. A mirror's temperature is always at zero. It is ice in the veins. It's camera is an X-ray. It is a chalice held out to you in silent communion, where you partake of a shifting identity never your own.

 R.S. Thomas