gmf@uvacs.UUCP (07/10/84)
Birth Come into the light, the end is now beginning. Crying in the morning, watch the sky. Some screw their faces, ask for other weather. Others chirp and gobble, might as well be bright. Hunters glisten, jaws are sharp. But what the hell, it isn't dark. Gordon Fisher Hail readers of net.poems. I return from a month in Guadalajara, Mexico, mother-in-law-sitting and mariachi-band-avoiding. Above libration (*not* libation!) left from last year (found it under a stack of records yesterday).