To get back to the
half a tablet,

however manmade,
you were its personality.

The truth was
a warning

and it really was a city:
cloth and groovy and heaven

and notwithstanding fun
please be advised –

can you hear
god’s tears?

The most courteous recital
and a farmer explained

there is no badly manufactured
love

and everything
was alright

with a thruway closed
for breakfast in bed.

Just their ideas,
they were

and a parking lot
full of personality and dress.

But kids
you young people

and today’s real poison.
All you need is.

Being in a world today that has so clearly not fulfilled the dream of Woodstock, I will still spend some time reliving that naive aspiration in a no-longer-a-young-teenager celebration of its 50th anniversary.

[These extracts are also drafts as I practice various presentations. I want to keep them relatively simple as erasures, and I certainly don’t have the artistic or technical skills to make them more like Humuments. This piece will eventually be the first in the sequence, a fore/found-word for the whole. Just having some fun with a precious text]