Pond, woodcut by Frederick Nunley
Used here with his kind permission






 

 

 

 

 

fishpond

 

 

Pip Wilson

 

 

 

 

This is the blog where I post poetry as I find it in the fishpond outside the door of my garden flat.

 

 

 

 



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Thursday, March 10, 2005

"This shouldn't defeat us or beat us," repeats Cletus.
"I bet it's just flatus. I can smell it."
Tim laughs, "Great, then it's bacterial!" "Getting back to that word 'serial' ...
Lum are you sure it was 'serial'?" asks Jade, in a voice quite ethereal.
"I wonder some, as she thundered away, Lum ... did she spell it?"

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