![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaid4u6_airXVdSrE-dRq3Uy-EmDmIwGJRMigPoz6IO348DdQrj2AjUA38hzAxqyeModCVoArHSHXqvuDwN1c-80QGAOulIT2e3jzXbr_imQ26XroYhXF_Z_r3y3gidSYndcXNITyP2mg6/s320/Jen's+Poem.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd6Yr9wea0x0o58cElUWut0Z6jZoasHrUciUXvvOFzTEoJEHUOnnDIUT6rRIuUttObbNTaulYN147qr9HQGhlkuCD8Bf6lOXFbUx0zrowhMlGnDaRTm8vAl8Vl9SkU6xafgtRIOBnJh4CR/s320/Klauba+Letterhead+1985.jpg)
That is me tonight, with the weather so cold my breath is like a steam engine and my hands like fetal stillborns. I leave you with artwork by Douglas C. Klauba which dovetails with the poem by Jen Christiano. Typing while my teeth are clamped to my collarbone, Wayne