December 0

Blog Archive

Thu, 24.09.2009


E’er since Miss Susan Johnson lost her Jockey, Lee, there has been much excitement, more to be. You can hear her moaning night and morn.
Wonder where my Easy Rider’s gone? Cablegrams come of sympathy
Telegrams go of inquiry. Letters come from down in “Bam” and every where that Uncle Sam has even a rural delivery. All day the phone rings but it’s not for me. At last good tidings fill our hearts with glee. This message comes from Tennessee.
Dear Sue, your Easy Rider struck his burg today. On a southbound rattler side door Pullman car. Seen him here, an’ he was on the hog.

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New Poem Each Day

Poetry Corner

these hips are big hips they need space to move around in. they don't fit into little petty places. these hips are free hips. they don't like to be... HOMAGE TO MY HIPS by Lucille Clifton
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