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Sunday, January 20, 2008

a poem

neglect. neglect. neglect.

I know, know, know.

But I'm too tired to go.

So milk the cows yourself today.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

would you compose a few lines that deal with miserable,unseasonably cold, winds that chill down to the marrow and days that know no sun...only the dark, overcast and dreary skies that are misplaced from some Poe lyric....

Ann said...

dear anonymous. golly, it's hard to tell if you're from Austin, Missouri or somewhere else. but you're right. it is miserable. My mother called to say it was -37 (that's negative thirty-seven) degrees windchill in St. Joe, Mo. in austin, it's dreary, rainy and chilly - and it's my day off. but i refuse to complain. i mean, we could be stuck in the damp catacombs buried alive by immurement if we left it up to poe alone to describe our lives...

Ann said...

"to die by immurement" is what i meant to type. :)