Click on the bonsai for the next poem. Open Directory Project at po dalam forex. If a guy somewhere in Asia makes a blog and no one reads it, does it really exist?
Lewis and Clark College in Portland, Oregon. Furby, Eliza, Mr_Friss and Miss_Friss. For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
Hoping to cease not till death. Nature without check with original energy. The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it. I am mad for it to be in contact with me. Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much?
Have you practis’d so long to learn to read? Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems? You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self. But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.
Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now. Always the procreant urge of the world. Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life. To elaborate is no avail, learn’d and unlearn’d feel that it is so. I and this mystery here we stand. Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.