<HTML>Ron, This is interesting.  I like it, though I'm not entirely sure what = it means.  Keep your day job, but I think your nights should be devoted= to the coffee house circuit.  And while we're waiting for word of your= successes to the beat of the bongo, how about a translation??? Dave Stahl In a message dated 3/20/03 9:47:39 AM Pacific Standard Time, rrg@unlv.ed= u writes: <BLOCKQUOTE TYPE=CITE style="BORDER-LEFT: #0000ff 2px so= lid; MARGIN-LEFT: 5px; MARGIN-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 5px">Betsyā€= ™s Cry By Rob Goodale, RPT She cries for an echo, a ghost.<= BR>Historyā€™s crude humor, the final insult. Fleece the fair = passed by, Weak from the head, soft but without purpose. Should h= ave been the box from which she came. The most critical was not rejected,= begs for more. Newtonā€™s dream, gravity without weight. H= er input loose, compromises to the side. Not of wood, an unnatural e= lement. Broken and crumbled, her children now silent. Slips away,= her voice lost to friction and time. The steel now stolen, the gift lost= . The savior is called and discriminates. Hours go by, she remain= s silent but hopeful. Moment of truth, will she breath? She cough= s and sighs, tired eyes open. Exhausted and regret, the servant coll= ects. The apprentice now sits and begins self torture. </BLOCKQUOTE> </HTML>