Reading Lawrence without the D.H. and drinking Chivas how ghastly laughable and remarkably “oh my darling I have this English degree so I just might as well spout what I know here and now.” Anyway, where was I now? “Ribbony (I am a writer therefore I can make up words just like my long dead hero cummings – huh – he had cum in his mane dude) roads?” Exactly (now you are in Nevada home of the E.T. Highway so maybe you were abducted and taken to a land where roads are of a substance much lighter than concrete and asphalt) what is the literary objective here. Hmmm. Let’s see. Ribbony. Circular. You are in Nevada. There are no cloverleaf highways except in Las Vegas. Oh. I love it. Lawrence without the D.H., Chivas and Las Vegas. How so post modern and decadent like all at the same time. Or ribbony – meaning narrow, as in strip as in reference to endless. It is Nevada, drive where you like. Breathe the beautiful air. Love again. At least triolet is close to toil or toilet, which oddly enough is where I must go now.

Jeremi B. Handrinos I knew you would make it to the top. I am with GW. My soul has truly been kissed by this masterpiece. Farawell my beloved, stay ribbony.

The true question here is: Are you really Dave's lady? And if so why would you represent yourself in an oddly public setting such as poemranker as the property of a man? Are you so hung up and emotionally connected to this Dave that you have lost any sense of individual self and simply become 1) your gender (in this case lady) and 2) an extension of someone else (in this case Dave)?

Is this about Dave?

Yes, barkeep I would like a gin and tonic water!!!!

Are you Dave?

I find myself inclined to critique this seriously. No wait. I changed my mind.

Why did babbit11 only give you an -8-. If I was babbit11 I would give Po etandknowit a -10- every time.

See, told you it was a bad idea my elf-like friend.

He is a blessed man. I hope he knows it.

These rhymes are forced. Either make the rhymes subtle, or don't use them.

I'm curious as to why someone would log in under 3 different user names just to give this three fives. Can you really hate something that badly as to want to waste that much time? or maybe you are three different people who live together. Either way, it's cool...I was just wondering.

Until the lines, "Having your children... Watching you play with them...", I thought the poem was about being dropped off at the first day of school (September). I had to re-read to get the sense. As I was once told by an ex-marine after I read a similar poem i had written, "Dan, I felt just like that once... a couple of times." Of course it is not possible to feel this a couple of times. The first time kills your ability to feel that exact thing forever. I think he meant to say that he has felt that way about different things. The future holds lots of different things for us. Let us hope some of them are good things... at least, a couple of times.

That's pretty harsh for all involved.

Chance has no memory. People have memory. People remember the date and time. Chance has no calendar. I have forgotten the point to what I was saying. But I have a pertinent comment. "Isn't this a lovely poem Mr. DgB?" "Oh yeah, yeah."

Regardless of the 'lack of originality', it's pretty damn funny.

The only pictures I see on sills are through the window pane. To see this one, I am standing out on the fire escape looking in on your poem. Is this the perspective from which you were writing this poem? I like the thought of that. Please don't tell me "no." There's an intimacy attached to the thought of looking into other's windows. I just hope I don't get caught. Good.

I really love the unconventional way you've used commas in this piece!!!!

Love the piece. Hate the commas.

I'm fighting sleep just reading this. Lullaby. Nice.