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|I've just edited an item in my portfolio: |
Every once in awhile I stumble across something in the dark, something I didn't even know was there.
And after the typical (%$#T^+_!! of a stubbed toe, when I've calmed down and I'm over it, well then, comes the question what to do with it?
Burnt offerings! To the comedy gods!
(Or whoever it is who wishes to take responsibility for the darned thing...)
|Followers? I don't have any followers! |
I don't even have any Leaders.
But I'm not entirely unconvinced that this particular topic doesn't touch a nerve, spread a little salt upon a wound, invite a wince, a grimace, a groan, a moan, or any other human response in relation to the idea of somebody somewhere reading something you've written, for some reason.
Beyond that, it's all as profound as Samuel Clemons' chosen pen name:
Which means in Mississippi Riverboat parlance - "deep enough."
I've just edited an item in my portfolio:
Read it and weep, or laugh, or throw it a Bronx cheer, as the case may be.
I leave you with an astonishing question:
Can a review be reviewed?
|Happy, Happy, wonderful day. Have a great birthday.|
|Thanks for telling me happy birthday from last year. I can't believe I just saw it today. Although setting it now may seem kind of late, it really made my day. Thanks a lot|
|A captain's hat turned slightly sideways, the clump of longjohn Silver boots, a portside shiffle shuffling stage left into a moonlight spotlight... |
while careworn valentines shift into dogeared forgetfulness, inside drawers and clipped up on bulletin boards.....
A little late, with this one:
climbs out the basement window, heading for the nearest seashore.......
|My dear Pixie n Thigse's dad |
Two of your poems got nominated for best poems in 2015... Song of Whales and Blood all over the Map. The latter was the one that brought me to you and the first which made me a fan.
Pixie's maple keys for you
|A little bird lands |
in a faraway place
all the wings folded
in a feathered embrace
while Freedom sings
and dreams lie
in foreign lands
the languages of love
reside like scattered seeds
within the ground
to flyaway once more
to distant shores
all in seasons' glad good time....
|Here's my answer to your question |
| ||Invalid Item |
This item number is not valid.
#2067977 by Not Available.
I wish you an happy account anniversary!
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