A more informal online journal and account of the life of JM Rayner. Two weekends ago I took the train from Penn Station, New York City, to Harrisburg and back again to New York in the same weekend. This time the medium was the same, but the content changed. I said this to my friend Evan, and he said he understood. I think that these essays are fairly decent, and .

The poetry of JM Rayner. Walk across the asphalt and into. The lane, empty and winding, voiceless. Think of yourself and how. Romantic it is, cobblestones. And tufa walls enjoyed unspoiled. The stones strike your heel with tones. They ring against your pride, the sun-. When, after dark, you. You are humbled now but you will.

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