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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=520838" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Sky Is Winking At Me Tonight</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=520838" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">It is as if there is something <br>I must not know: <br>I quickly dig up my dogeared Kant<br>And search for an explanation-<br>It is all thete, if one goes deeply...</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=520838" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Our senses are blundebusses at best.<br>There are hidden forms, gossamer wings, <br>Are tangential eaquations, <br>We stupidly overlook.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=520838" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I think - no, I say - that they walk among us, <br>Tripingly in laughter, and point<br>Out our absurd predelictions.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=520838" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">One cant find much<br>humor in being laugher AT.<br>But I do.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Stan+Petrovich">Stan Petrovich</a></strong></div>

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