tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20149061.post116482136690299510..comments2023-06-02T06:10:04.413-07:00Comments on Freckled. Girl. Talk...: nataliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08217067293718671958noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20149061.post-1164907414135780842006-11-30T09:23:00.000-08:002006-11-30T09:23:00.000-08:00and how did you get the house, the land and the hu...and how did you get the house, the land and the husband before me, HL? hee, hee... can i get a rub, rub... ;) miss you so much it almost hurts. i'm getting ready for maud's visit. where should i take her now that it is blistering cold outside [which i love, btw]. i'm thinking saturday market, portland city grill, powel's, pearl district and 23rd, and then to saucebox [aka softspot] and ... i need ideas. nat is running low on energy.nataliehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08217067293718671958noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20149061.post-1164903687692813662006-11-30T08:21:00.000-08:002006-11-30T08:21:00.000-08:00all birthday gifts to yours truly should be postma...all birthday gifts to yours truly should be postmarked by today. ;) -- remember, i moved one building over so all that changed was the last 2 digits from 24 to 34. still apartment D. xoxoxoxxnataliehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08217067293718671958noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20149061.post-1164900122996983472006-11-30T07:22:00.000-08:002006-11-30T07:22:00.000-08:00Makes me think of courting, of when I received let...Makes me think of courting, of when I received letters from my husband. And also of a friend from long ago who wrote a poem of similar style. Nice fall day here, overcast, but dry; leaves blowing across the lawn; lights strung up the lightpoles; flags blowing in the breeze; a giant Christmas wreath hung outside my window.<BR/><BR/>"It's getting to be a lot like Christmas . . .." Just in time for December 1.<BR/><BR/>HLAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20149061.post-1164847526115919922006-11-29T16:45:00.000-08:002006-11-29T16:45:00.000-08:00Reading my favorite poem makes me happy. thank you...Reading my favorite poem makes me happy. thank you<BR/><BR/>csmAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20149061.post-1164826086307586952006-11-29T10:48:00.000-08:002006-11-29T10:48:00.000-08:00i work on sixth avenue. smack in the middle of do...i work on sixth avenue. smack in the middle of downtown. could i be even more enamored with this city. <BR/><BR/>nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands somehwere i have never travelled, gladly beyond<BR/>any experience, your eyes have their silence:in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,or which i cannot touch because they are too near<BR/><BR/>your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose<BR/><BR/>or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,<BR/>as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending;<BR/><BR/>nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility: whose texture compels me with the colour of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing<BR/><BR/>(i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands<BR/><BR/>e.e.cummingsnataliehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08217067293718671958noreply@blogger.com