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Poets are very loud. Their sound is often like rasping thick rope over wood, perhaps on the edge of a pearl lugger. Other times (it may be a different species of poet), they balloon out sound in big green belches which rise in volume, stop, and start again. After rain they belch for hour after hour. Cheers Patrick re alsoRe: The thick-skinned good old days -----Original Message----- From: Poetryetc: poetry and poetics [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On Behalf Of andrew burke Sent: 04 December 2007 06:16 To: [log in to unmask] Subject: hispirits Recently on my blog: Within the System by Frederick Pollack Gibb River Frog Part this, part that ... Come in! The River's Mighty Fine! More Broome School Camp Images Writing on a Brown Bag in Freo Wanalirri Catholic School Camp in Broome Review of Candice Ward's new book The Moon Sees Th... Urban Elegies by David Brooks, scribble from my notebook... silk shorts tall sports by Sheila E Murphy You're invited to visit. Andrew http://hispirits.blogspot.com/ http://www.flickr.com/photos/aburke/ -- No virus found in this incoming message. Checked by AVG Free Edition. Version: 7.5.503 / Virus Database: 269.16.9/1155 - Release Date: 27/11/2007 20:30