Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Unforseen Benefits #1

An unforeseen benefit of being a minor poet in a small town in rural Missouri, is that I’ll never have to write an inaugural poem.


At 1/22/2013 9:18 AM, Blogger G.C. said...

You must run for president yourself, John. And when you win, I will write your inaugural poem. It will be about squirrels, and the moons of Jupiter, and lactose intolerance.

At 1/22/2013 4:59 PM, Blogger Delia Psyche said...

If the moons of Jupiter are made of green cheese, squirrels, being rodents, would like to eat them. But lactose-intolerant squirrels would have to abstain.

At 1/22/2013 5:08 PM, Blogger John Gallaher said...

One does not run for president. One crawls.

At 1/23/2013 8:03 AM, Blogger G.C. said...

"O you dig and I dig, and I dig toward you, and on our finger the ring awakes" (Celan). John, you must wake the ring.


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