Been raining hard over the past couple of days, which we are welcoming around here since we need water. But it stopped raining today at 1 p.m. and then a rainbow draped itself over Galatea's mountain. Now I know where the Pot of Gold is located.
I could write a poem about it, but since I'm already sprawled among the gold, why be redundant?
Yes, I got the gold, though I'm not a "nude man." Among my specialties, after all, is debunking myths, particularly misogynist ones. Galatea walks among you now, doesn't she?
This Saturday, I pick up the mural collaboration I worked on with artist June. She did a mosaic from a poem I wrote about re-breathing life into Galatea, while turning Pymalion into stone -- obviously, your Chatelaine nixed that myth. June's mosaic will go, but of course, into the wine cellar.
Sip: the 1994 San Vicente Rioja...
Labels: Within the Golden Chalice