when i was in 8th grade, we had a big rivalry with our science teacher. we ran wild. we ran him ragged. so at the end of the year he sent us on a field trip to a sewage treatment plant. it was a particularly windy day, and most of us lost our hardhats to the sludge at sum point.

so for each stage of treatment i picture our hardhats landing in the vats and i remember that godawful smell.

-sorry for being irreverent, ananse, i just wanted to reminisce-

-interesting post- i'll come back to it more seriously once i meet my deadline



==**peace**==

"the skilled binder uses no strings or knots, while to unloose what he has bound would be impossible." Lao Tzu


DomePoem Poets; redefining the third dimension of spoken word