Photography Poesy

Cloud Roads

There are men these days seek a road to the clouds, cloud roads, dark and trackless. Mountains are high with many dangerous crags, green crags above and down below as well. And cloud roads, where are they? Cloud roads are empty; clouds roads are in empty space. -Han Shan, translated by J.P. Seaton

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Photography Poesy

Where the Sidewalk Ends

WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS by Shel Silverstein   There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow…

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