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Array
(
[sid] => 94416
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Glints
[time] => 2005-05-15 03:23:41
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Aimlessly Drawing aim On whatever Becomes game Game is everything And nothing In a breath The wrold is your oyster Rotten raw food Smacking away taste Grimmacing openly Choking on dabs Searching for something Grabbing at anything Read in a book That all is not lost Sightless paths Light footfalls Impressions in snow Are empty traces Scents of the hounds Hounds following scents Trapped in the running Ignoring the glints Glints in the rabble Broken glass in the dirt Started out useful Now instruments of hurt [comments] => 2 [counter] => 199 [topic] => 43 [informant] => xnoybis [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 9 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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