Poemranker [Poem: Garage sale] [by INTRANSIT] Thu Nov 21 18:10:04 PST 2024

[9] Dovina @ 12.72.2.151 | 16-Feb-05/9:02 PM | Reply

I'll give fifty cents for the scenery and because most of tha ants are sick.

[n/a] INTRANSIT @ 152.163.100.138 > Dovina | 17-Feb-05/5:39 AM | Reply

As ususal. Women doing what they can to save the planet. Men and their deadly avarice. Ha!

[9] Dovina @ 12.72.33.108 > INTRANSIT | 17-Feb-05/7:36 AM | Reply

Must you draw a line along the boundary of sex? I think there's more avarice (greed) in offering fifty cents than in marking down the price to a dollar. If your poetry really sucks as you say, you'd show a little more arogance like some whose poetry sucks.

[n/a] INTRANSIT @ 205.188.116.138 > Dovina | 18-Feb-05/6:30 AM | Reply

No I don't suppose I need to draw a line along the boundary of sex considering it is such an old boundary. Avarice in fifty cents? Possibly. If your intention is do dispose of the ants and keep the rest. This doesn't sound like your style, D. As far as arrogance is concerned, I think it has little to do with writing good poetry. Thanks for the vote of confidence though.

[n/a] zodiac @ 212.118.11.12 > Dovina | 18-Feb-05/10:02 PM | Reply

As you're a nonfeminist, I don't think you're qualified to answer that question.

PS-Here's one you can: Would you say a nonfeminist is a sexist?

[9] Dovina @ 12.72.10.8 > zodiac | 19-Feb-05/6:53 AM | Reply

Only if he or she is a sexist.

[10] nentwined @ 64.81.38.95 | 16-Feb-05/11:00 PM | Reply

:HEH: very cute. :)

[9] wilco @ 24.165.207.93 | 17-Feb-05/5:33 PM | Reply

Pretty good. Glad to have you back.

[8] Caducus @ 172.212.112.111 | 18-Feb-05/1:17 AM | Reply

The ants are people right?

As always a wealth of meaning with a poverty of words how d'ya do it trucker?

Did u get my email?

[n/a] INTRANSIT @ 205.188.116.138 > Caducus | 18-Feb-05/6:34 AM | Reply

Yes I did get your e-mail. Thank you. I'll hang on to it for future refrence should I look to try something different again.
How do I do it? Dunno really. Sometimes a picture pops into my head, possibly driven by whatever mood I'm in at the time, and I grab pen, scribble notes, and when I have more time I get out the curling iron, and brushes.