A poem a day in April from Rutgers English PhD students and friends. Friday, May 1, 2015. Thursday, April 30, 2015. Tonight I walked to the store after dinner,. And I thought of other constitutionals. Especially those evening walks by Ceredigion Bay. Walking along the promenade, catching the sunset. Sometimes earlier, just walking to walk, hear the surf, feel the wind. The sound of the cars was the low roar of waves.

Wednesday, May 06, 2009. Others, though, have been pursuing plenty of scientifically transgressive thoughts about creativity out there. Mental illness itself is being rehabilitated, having attained, in some circles. In contrast, one researcher is drawing less-than-flattering comparisons. I have no idea what the gender differential means. So many variables, so little useful verbiage.

Waves that carry the sailboat in a beautiful. Zigzag line to where ever its sailor wants. To go The sailor, call him Bob, wants. The weather, call it. And the world, his. To be circumnavigated on weekends and paid. There are other Bobs, but he never.

30 poems in 30 days. Pringles is a very laid-back company. Originally, they wanted to make tennis balls. Bri felt she was a map. She had never been a map before. She felt one moving from a continent of loss. To an island where no man is a man. To the South, icebergs. There were similar bodies of ice in the North,.

You get educated by traveling. Yes, Paris is the best in almost every way. But when you eat and drink as much chocolate as I do, you get picky.