If drought holds off for a year or three
and my oak escapes the quirks of fate,
one day it might spread and thrive
until its carpet of jagged leaves bloody
the bare feet of a child or passing Pomeranian
and I live again through their pain.
-Brian Koukol, "Necromancy For The Bitter"
There was, some 18 foot, a tree I called "evil", but was rarely more of just a weird cosmological phenomenon, something worthy of a second look to the scholar, and something abstract and defying understanding to the layman.
We all have our situations to bear, and all, without distillation, say we require more and more money as time goes on. And even now, billions up for grabs, millions buying tickets several times a week, holding to a vain hope, putting their money in the pot.
If the odds were say 300-million-to-one, then let them all win and take a few dollars, and maybe that would take the taste out of their mouth, their love for easy money, and the system's scheming for graft and grift.
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