Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.98

From Email:	Required Email Address Not Valid.
To Email:	Email Address Not Valid. Required
Subject	Required
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem	Other vessels hold wine, other vessels hold oil inside the hollowed-out vault circumscribed by their clay. I, as smaller measure, and as the slimmest of all, humbly hollow myself so that just a few tears can fill me. Wine becomes richer, oil becomes clear, in its vessel. What happens with tears?-They made me blind in my glass, made me heavy and made my curve iridescent, made me brittle, and left me empty at last.
	Type the characters you see in the picture Required