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Member since 11/2003

« Clouds and fog | Main | Indian Tears--and Bush's Silence »

March 23, 2005


Jennifer Rier
I absolutely loved this poem. I also love the's the type of subject I enjoy photographing.
Raymond Weaver aka nothingpetty
I popped in here from your entry in journalwriting. Where I'm from is a wonderful poem, and although I grew up in a city, I can identify with some of your circusmstances, e.g. the tin tub which served both as laundry washing apparatus and bathtub. Ours used to hang on a nail on the back porch when not in use. Come Saturday evening, water was heated on the stove, poured into the tub and the whole family (excepting an uncle who lived with us.) used the same water. My sister and I were first, my mother next, and finally my father. It was quite a quick operation, mainly so my father would have warm water for his bath. As for my uncle, he went to a public bath in the neighborhood. Oddly, the building is still standing, though it hasn't been used in years.
Hi, I posted yours and you can visit it at Regards, Melinama

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