Poetry

but the words

In our culture, where can we find
hope?

In the children who read books and
come to bookstores to see what
the new releases are;
one–her mother haggling the proper age range for a particular book
–just goes to town picking her nose with
both hands, oblivious to everything
but the words.

Kevin Crispin
What do you think is up to my right in the picture? A cob web? Probably a cob web. Or maybe it's my Beatles records on top of my air conditioner. It's certainly not fresh, new wainscoting.

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