poems, mostly metrical, and rants and raves on poets, poetry, and the po-biz (with 8-string stuff)
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“solitude and loneliness and infinity and dust”

This is just weird. And I don’t mean the “poems to be strapped to the back of racing pigeons.”

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3 comments

1 MAS { 01.18.09 at 8:44 pm }

But I think the poems to strapped to the back of racing pigeons needs to be a poem.

2 Patrick Gillespie { 01.18.09 at 10:38 pm }

Two Australian Cattle drivers challenged each other to come up with a poem ending with the word Timbuktu.

The first started off:
“I was a father all my life,
I had no children, had no wife,
I read the bible through and through
on my way to Timbuktu…”

The second parried with:
“When Tim and I to Brisbane went,
we met three ladies cheap to rent.
They were three and we were two,
so I booked one and Tim booked two…”

3 Mike { 01.18.09 at 10:52 pm }

I read your verses drinking whiskey,
Which rather soon proved rather risky —
Without my laptop’s keyboard condom
It’s usefulness would now be quondam.

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