Burden of Skunks

Skunk. Sunday, February 28, 2016. Glenwood near the little Sir Walter Raleigh house. Hit by a car. Middle of the road. Violent senses. You know it when you see it. Why does the uncaged bird sing? I want to be up when everyone else is asleep. Killers and gatherers. Sometimes a heay load is too much to carry. Gin a body meets a body. My needs versus Nature's zeitgeist. General musings on climate, planetary orbits, the singularity of the individual, and where to drop the needle on the record. Distractions and defense mechanisms. Whitman walks among the marvels of a new America. Mr. Skunk, he dead. Odious odors. A sentence is passed, and the world moves on as we make our final farewells.