HELLO UTOPIA For a circle of friends something new and good from tobacco wasted land organic farmers tend to pump water and saw wood, their community planned as a different direction, like daring to care for each other's needs, giving hugs for affection and so persistently fair they planted the seeeds for a village of trust where the past retold is lost in mainstream, agreeing they must unfold and let go their haunted dreams of parents and lovers, sisters and brothers, sons and daughters whose long-distance calls remind them who they were before they changed their names, and lovely Southern drawls remind them where they are, away from negative claims. So cling to a young tradition of labor and income sharing, that egalitarian theme of scattered federation whose business for profit scene is their seasonal products push to fill up the warehouse stalls for a certain corporate dream of a growing market rush toward the not too distant falls, while her ravaged harvest declines from billions of moneymaking schemes to millions of deserted malls? Then greedily share the fat times and care less who shares the lean, as microbic below and cosmic above stress in opposite directions, who exactly are they willing to love, all or some, a few or one, or none? Who is open to the higher unity that to all inspiration lends power to change destination from a village of vagary and vanity an extending family of friends?

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