'tis the moon, Stephen, & owes something to Joyce, of course.

And it remains far too cold to venture out unless one has to. I didn't 
today, so stayed in & read Marilynne Robinson's strange & beautiful 
(even to a non-believer like me) Gilead.

On 12-Jan-05, at 7:43 PM, Stephen Vincent wrote:

> Nice poem, Doug. All I can offer is virtual warm good cheer, and not 
> the
> obvious advice of 'stay well-wrapped inside.' :
>        ...above god
>> s pared fingernail
>>       hangs there
>>       tossed aside
>> indifferent
>> to all tidal twists
>> & turns below
> One question, is this "fingernail" what you can see of the sun, or the 
> line
> of the horizon??
> Stephen V
> Blog:
> Where the Millennium - day by day, 1999 - keeps approaching.

Douglas Barbour
Department of English
University of Alberta
Edmonton  Alberta  T6G 2E5 Canada
(780) 436 3320

The poet is ecstatic, having dreamt of this visit for weeks.
He takes Erato’s face, dribbling and wild, between his hands

and kisses her gently as if she were a runaway teenager.

                        Diana Hartog