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A storm's revving up in the Gulf somewhere. The screen door slaps in a security lapse. Back yard furies (from the pen of The Bard) strike up the band with a caveat that's seldom been heard. A small lake turtle lifts his garden hose head to a once-tranquil surface transformed into dread, and I, Dona Quixote, go to fence with an owl Who-who's out of his element on a neighboring dock, but closer inspection reveals no college professor, just an owly imposter, a quasi- transgressor chiseled from rock

Copyright © | Year Posted 2008

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Date: 3/29/2009 9:15:00 AM
Wow! Congratulations everybody, a few have finally commented on one of the very best poets on the soup....there should be 100. This is deep, Nola, so deep I'll have to ruminate on it for a spell. I get the impression of fear, almost panic, yet an effort to soften, to be kind to one's self. Great writing, my dear old friend. Love, daver
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