In the fog we drift hither
And yon over the dark waters.
At last our little boat finds
Shelter under a willow bank.
At midnight I am awake,
Heavy with wine. The smoky
Lamp is still burning. The rain
Is still sighing in the bamboo
Thatch of the cabin of the boat.
translated by Kenneth Rexroth
Urban art and culture magazine
We're all on a road to somewhere.
My poetry is my religion.
poetry by Robert Ford
Rincón de ideas y de recetas sencillas
A daily guide on “What to cook?" And "How to cook?”
THE BLOG THAT CELEBRATES MUSIC NO MATTER WHAT...
Katahdin Sheep, Chickens, Ducks, Dogs and Novelist Adrienne Morris live here (with humans).
Enjoy your life as much as you can
Un espacio para la reflexión de anécdotas y cosas que no son del mundo. Un lugar que no pretende ser polémico, pero si causar algún pensamiento en la noche…
1001 steps to becoming a good teacher
Muffins, Coffee and this Blog
IN MEMORY EVERYTHING SEEMS TO HAPPEN TO MUSIC -Tennessee Williams
Write. Doodle. Express.
A life in a photobooth.
poetry, music, top ten, punk, culture, literature,art and nonsense
Storytelling
Now anything with little boats and river banks or Lakes and I am in love with it all.
Not bad things to be in love with.
I have always had a fascination for them. Leonard I wish you a very Happy New Year when it arrives in your part of the Word, and thank you for all the support you have shown me. Take care, Anna.
Thank you, Anna. May comfort and joy be with you this year.
I am cocooned in that little cabin, smelling the rain on the thatch…
Not a bad place to be methinks.