Classic poem of the day
I have a gentle cock
Croweth me day;
He doth me risen early
My matins for to say.
I have a gentle cock
Comen he is of great;
His comb is of red corál
His tail is of jet.
I have a gentle cock
Comen he is of kind;
His comb is of red corál
His tail is of inde.
His legges been of azure
So gentle and so small;
His spurres are of silver white
Into the wortewale.
His eyen are of crystal
Locken......
Member poem of the day
Tonight’s sky seems flat, it could be an expanse with no shape at all. Perception, they say, is everything. I step outside in the dark, see Venus and Jupiter, mistake them as stars. Why not? What mass can I assign to a paper-thin crescent glowing phantasmal yellow-white, or to its neighbors, bright, circular specks? Heavenly bodies we call them, as if knowing their figure: globe, sphere, some kind of body-at-all. Things change form and orientation to each other— like......
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