[squarebarb]

"Off at six," she had said. He walked for hours in the rain, searching for her address. It was written on the cinders of his alleged heart. He had lost everything.

He had lost his kitten, his lunch, his marbles, and now he was about to lose her. Her wet lips, her drabjous eyes.

[Al Gator]

drabjous?

Seems to me what we have here, is a new freeper legacy word. This is vey series, and hugh!

You now can get your beeber stuned.

[Scourge of God]

He pulled the brim of his fedora lower on his forehead. The early spring rain was cold, he could feel the chill creeping through his bones. Then, almost by accident, perhaps the gods were sporting with him, his eyes fell upon the address he had looking for.

---

What the heck is drabjous? I looked it up, but no luck.

[Eleutheria5]

I’ve just discovered that my long-time friend and correspondent Bryan Thao Worra is a truly gifted poet, as well as a right-of-center immigrant from Laos. If you wish to read his new book, On The Other Side of the Eye, check out http://members.aol.com/thaoworra/. Here is an excerpt:

WHAT KILLS A MAN

Always small things:
A round.
Holes.

Fumes.
Edges.

Split atoms.
A second.

A footstep.
A sip. A bite. A word. A cell.

A motion. An emotion. A dream.
A fool.

A bit of salt. A drop. A gramgent.
The true root of arguments.

What kills a man is mysterious
Only in how minute the culprit behind the blow.

We’re careless, and forget:
Even when what kills a man
Is another man,

It is a small thing that kills a man,
The whole earth a single grain

On a sprawling table filled with the smallest things.