Poetry...

I hate it.  I always have.  Aside from the cliché obsession with Poe in my youth, poetry was about as useful to me as a child's finger-painting, which, in all reality, some currently sell for millions by convincing stupid people that it's brilliant.  I have zero use for poetry, but Whitman's poetry interests me like Thoreau's prose disgusts me.  I just purchased his complete works.  This shall be an interesting journey.

More of Sienna coming soon, too.  I'm just fumbling to think of something substantial to ramble on about.