Whenever I complain to my father about how tough work is, or how strange people are these days, he always replies, "Well, that's life in the giggleweeds." Given the number of times I've heard that expression from my dad, I guess I must be spending a lot of time in the giggleweeds, probably ninety percent of my life, I'd guess. Thanks, dad, for giving me an apt title to this blog.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
The End (a poem of fleeting disappointment)
the lonely pearl bead nestled so nonchalantly in the folds of your tired sheets was not mine
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