Feisty bingo of the environs! / More poems on death!

Bingos of the day:

FEISTILY (80 points) - against Barb H. [across a double word score!]
ENVIRON (76 points) - against Pat K.


Andrew's MSN picture is crazy - it's from a haircut he had last November, and he inverted the color so it looked nothing like him! He also wanted help with a poem:

The Dead (Mark Strand)

The graves grow deeper.
The dead are more dead each night.

Under the elms and the rain of leaves,
The graves grow deeper.

The dark folds of the wind
Covers the ground. The night is cold.

The leaves are swept against the stones.
The dead are more dead each night.

A starless dark embraces them.
Their faces dim.

We cannot remember them
Clearly enough. We never will.

More morbid death poems... and the dead grow more dead every day, if that makes sense. I do know that you cease to remember the dead clearly with the passage of time!


Edit at 1855: He later told me that he'd Googled the poem title and author, then found the theme in an essay posted online. I warned him that his teachers could also do that, so told him NOT to plagiarize! He said that he'd done that in his own words, sorta. Fair enough then!