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Writing Class

The poet presents himself as a dichotomy. Whatever is apparent becomes obscured, and all the luscious facts wither into hard statistics. Born here, did that, intended something else but I forget what. The intruding ‘I’. The breakneck speed on machines of make-believe which finally slow motion curve into the cemetery. Alibis salute the endless proud […]

Posted in Poems | Tagged , | Comments Off on Writing Class
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