tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-855012732105426889.post659576762789374217..comments2024-03-06T13:33:02.824-08:00Comments on poetry bites: A mountain anticipates a full moonKit Kennedyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04680775609980451495noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-855012732105426889.post-34890699422263293192018-02-22T13:35:39.266-08:002018-02-22T13:35:39.266-08:00Waving goodbye, they sent us off to camp and hoped...Waving goodbye, they sent us off to camp and hoped we would survive the bees and nests of contempt from the older children, not imagining the nights we would spend wishing we were elsewhere, as we passed the mustard to the others with their hot dogs and happy families. It is the lonely center of the night when we cannot ground ourselves in the here and now, but wish to unhinge in a special way, become ourselves in another land, another axiom, hear another prayer in another language, recall that lazy swim under a bridge wearing just our underpants in the full moon of the suburbs.Susan E. Gangelhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11089529481292723290noreply@blogger.com