Giving the love to editorgirl

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So I was thinking that since the rest of us fall short of our Fobby Master in garnering compliments, we ought to buoy each other up. And since editorgirl just called me perfect, I think she deserves to be first.

I should take this opportunity to give her some meaningful compliment about what a clever poet she is and how brilliant her thesis presumably is, but instead I'm going to voice a complaint and call it a compliment:

Have you noticed the image she has connected to her Gmail identity? Man, every time my mouse happens to roll over her name and it pops up I go HOLY SCHMOKES!!! WHO WAS THAT??? Because she looks awesome in that photo.

Lady Steed wants to chop all her hair off.

She should get an editordo, sez me.

Yes, huh.

Can You Name All the Fobs?

Today's Guest Fobber: Li-Young Lee (filling in for editorigirl)

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Sad is the man who is asked for a story
and can't come up with one.

His five-year-old son waits in his lap.
Not the same story, Baba. A new one.
The man rubs his chin, scratches his ear.

In a room full of books in a world
of stories, he can recall
not one, and soon, he thinks, the boy
will give up on his father.

Already the man lives far ahead, he sees
the day this boy will go. Don't go!
Hear the alligator story! The angel story once more!
You love the spider story. You laugh at the spider.
Let me tell it!

But the boy is packing his shirts,
he is looking for his keys. Are you a god,
the man screams, that I sit mute before you?
Am I a god that I should never disappoint?

But the boy is here. Please, Baba, a story?
It is an emotional rather than logical equation,
an earthly rather than heavenly one,
which posits that a boy's supplications
and a father's love add up to silence.