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I asked for two fried egg sandwichesand a blueberry milkshake. I got soup.And it was raining so instead of tryingagain to read “Middlemarch,” I lay
Editor’s Note: Frequent RJ commenter and poet Jack Ridl recently sent this letter to a young woman interested in poetry. We felt it was too
And the angel said unto thee, Go thouinto your garden and plant Creeping Jenny, alyssum, Sweet Woodruff to crawl acrossthe earth, and herbs to bring
The only waywewill bethe same at the lastwill be to go homeand sleep. We must notmake the maquette.
