A poem by Thomas Thornburg from Ancient Letters (1987)   After the last trick had been turned in the game, The bumpers drunk, the galley fallen apart; The lying maid having drunk to a different name A cup for the journey, so to speak, at the start; One wonders whether that harried dame ever thought [...]

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A journal entry in the old style Ah.. rested at last. Not well-rested, mind you, but some-rested, and better than the last few nights. Friday night, trying to sleep, and the nose would not stop dripping, so every ten minutes or so I had to blow it out. Then it dried up suddenly and swelled [...]

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