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Travel has always been said to educate us more than any classroom can, and the peripatetic soul of poets thrive in the in-between-ness of travel. More than the arrival or the departure, the essence of travel is in getting there—the time when the soul is suspended between foothold and foothold. In many ways, the virtual travel afforded by the Internet works this way. At no other time are our souls suspended from our footholds in real time, than when we are surfing the Net, exploring the Web. Whether we shift online for such ordinary chores as shopping, or venture into the unknown through exotic and esoteric sites (or even pornographic, said to be one of the original reasons for the Net), the act is strange, to say the least. We can almost equate it with “poetic.” Because travel, the journey into the strange, is always making us look inside, no matter how unfamiliar or awesome the scenes and settings unfolding before our eyes. That is the paradox of travel and of poets who travel: the strange places poets visit are always becoming intimate, because the act of poetry cannot stand strangeness.


So conquer the strangeness of these pages. Or their familiarity, even. Travel online or by ocean liner, because while travel wrests us away from the familiar, the poetry of travel and the poet who travels continually make us feel at home. These “Web of Days” are of course intended to make this poet’s work available online. You might have seen some of the poems somewhere, and perhaps wanted to see more, so here they are at your “click and call.” You may even participate in the site by sending a photograph you took for our Cover Page. It’s our collaborative space: send pictures of doors, windows, or anything that has to do with entrances, passages, exits, transitions—the venues and ambits of the suspended soul. Your credit will appear, of course, near your picture and at the Frontispiece and Gallery pages. (More on how to contribute at our Profile Page.)


Thank you, in advance, for dropping by, but thank you some more if you linger and look around. And don't forget to sign the Guestbook.