and_miles_to_go_before_i_sleep jane robert frost closed my eyes last night & tucked me into bed 040415 ... Robert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. 040415 ... twelve pigeons seventy whistles sodden days and nights to clarify the obvious stagnation, the loss of words the unbearable humidity of owned skin the chill of conditioned cold. 050419 what's it to you? who go blather from