There is a certain amount not known
Who would want to weigh it?
Who wants to peek around static mountains corners
If the longest bones are crossed
Would cheeks become so smooth?
Would the folding of long held ideas
Become such an obtuse nuisance?
Why cant we just bubble wrap
All of our known notches?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
My Uncle Fred had 3 notches on his Colt Peacemaker...'For shooting rabbits son'...he seplied when asked by a 5 year old admirer.... Sid xxx