On Cuil I found that a rather D/s oriented poem I'd written years ago called "The Artist" has been linked to by a web site listing, of all things, recommended hip exercises.
It's interesting only because the beginning lines of the poem are:
You're painting me in chains, my aching arms
held high above my head - my hands restrained.
I sincerely hope no one looking for ways to reduce their hip size tries any of the above.
It doesn't work.
I also found a poem I'd written about a hoped-for eternal resting place was quoted in depth in an article about Laura Bush's garden.
Cuil seems to have a whole lot of dead links. I don't know if it's bugs or what, but it's annoying.
[This message has been edited by Laura Heidy-Halberstein (edited July 31, 2008).]
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