tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320422313891498825.post3970683710689020191..comments2009-10-27T14:43:12.893-04:00Amandahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15899239356088557995noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320422313891498825.post-82763393291918382362009-10-27T14:43:12.893-04:002009-10-27T14:43:12.893-04:00I love that poem. And I wish I could show you that beach while your in this most wonderful of countries. Alas it is just too far away for a day trip.Peonies and Polaroidshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09351483253361159121noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320422313891498825.post-70477142344323726062009-10-21T10:37:45.914-04:002009-10-21T10:37:45.914-04:00emily always hits the spot.Alisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08756863577585445579noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3320422313891498825.post-88630188261757196762009-10-20T18:57:25.645-04:002009-10-20T18:57:25.645-04:00For each ecstatic instant<br />We must an anguish pay<br />In keen and quivering ratio<br />To the ecstasy<br /><br />I wonder how badly the unhappy gibbon outside in my car is going to have to beat me to equal my enjoyment of your Tuesday poems (I see him through the office window). Quite badly, I imagine. But where did the gibbon come from? And why so angry? How did he get in there?!<br />-jkj<br /><br />post script:<br />The honda held but just ourselves<br />And ImmortalityAnonymousnoreply@blogger.com