This is not a seasonal poem at all, but I just read it and liked it, especially the ending. Robinson’s Telephone Rings the Tuesday after he was last seen. A policeman is there to pick the shrill thing up. Who is it? the couple of friends present ask as he cups it to his ear. Then hangs up. There was...

It is his glutonous eating habits that makes him more endearing to me, or perhaps endearing is the wrong word, palatable might be better. Without this, he is so devoid of any emotional at all. With the eating it seems that he is burying his inner self with food. He has detached his analytical mind f...

it will be interesting to see how this works out .. I suspect it will fail due to the Professors own demons but we'll see. I agree that it will probably fail, as the Professor is trying to find a simple solution to a very complex problem and he is seeing all 'sex offenders' as being similar in inte...

Here is another one about love and loss. Snowshoe to Otter Creek 1975 Stacie Cassarino love lasts by not lasting —Jack Gilbert I’m mapping this new year’s vanishings: lover, yellow house, the knowledge of surfaces. This is not a story of return. There are times I wish I could erase the mind’s lucidi...

I would hang that bastard myself. Trust me on this one.
And I'd probably call you after to buy you a beer to help me celebrate.

And, your immoral behavior would be okay, because it was 'justified'? Who else should we hang? I kill spiders.

think you are very right about love - complex and just when you think you might have a grip on it, the handle breaks free. ..and if it comes back it's yours and if is doesn't it never was. Love can never be gripped too tightly. Maybe it can never be gripped at all? I like The Owl You Heard. I wonde...

Glad you liked it. I fixed the formatting as it did not work the first time.

<t>I like the style of chapter 7 (I think 7), with the question and answer and no other narrative to distract from it. We can really see a type of trust already developing, though guarded, on the side of the Kid. Perhaps it is the first time in a long while that he has had someone just willing to li...

What loves, takes away 1937 Eleanor Wilner If the nose of the pig in the market of Firenze has lost its matte patina, and shines, brassy, even in the half light; if the mosaic saint on the tiles of the Basilica floor is half gone, worn by the gravity of solid soles, the passing of piety; if the arm...

flowering minds and pockets at ease-
if ever this were true.

I like these lines. The days gone by, often viewed through rose coloured glasses.

Nice poem. Realistic, cynical and wistful.