![[bear_grass_6.jpg]](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuxPg1fTmU2MHh59uP-dUtpP8oQRZ4vX0mvDsXoAErMkd94SkAvQczX0pu0f6jV0lEDwI2H4uo8bvlc0P3dY4CMahRNxgOgYs2BTW50rKkJg82OOFmd-UbARJFuOgamqXEQ9hO/s1600/bear_grass_6.jpg)
no one knows
That you send me music
that makes me weep
That you tell me stories
and I smile for hours
That I touch your picture
tenderly and dream
the meadows of our future
in bloom
Oh! The beargrass!
.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Friday, November 16, 2007
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
The weather just now: rain. And glorious it is!
Posted by
puddle
at
11/14/2007 11:28:00 pm
0
comments
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
The Cost of Loving
Is only this: that you give
everything
hold nothing back
Give up the bolt holes
the mad money
risk it all
Over
and
over
and
over
Posted by
puddle
at
11/12/2007 01:00:00 pm
0
comments
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Time Simple
There, behind a tree
There, beneath the leaf
No sound, just what grows
and remakes itself daily
Calcium exchanged between
bone and blood
What is invisible, indivisible
And no word spoken
.
Posted by
puddle
at
11/11/2007 06:06:00 am
0
comments
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Important stuff, Norman. Important.
Tyler Hicks/The New York Times
Norman Mailer died of acute renal failure at Mount Sinai Hospital, his literary executor said. Above, Mr. Mailer at his home in Provincetown, Mass., in January.
Posted by
puddle
at
11/10/2007 05:54:00 pm
0
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Friday, November 09, 2007
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
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