Smoky Mountains Photo Courtesy of Richard Weisser and smokyphotos.com
May 10, 2005
Beautiful dripping fragments. The negligent list
of one after another, as I happen to call them to me.
Or drink to them. The real poems, what we call
poems, being merely pictures. The poems of the
privacy of the night. And of men like me. This poem,
drooping shy and unseen, that I always carry.
And that all men carry....Walt Whitman.
~The Notebook~
song playing....Thanks for the Memories