On Sunday, I had breakfast with a poet. A real poet. He didn’t have breakfast with me because he’d had some “Irish soda bread” at home on his horse farm before our late morning meeting. […]
Tag Archives: poet
the chairs
I used to push and pull themwith cheery clang and janglesend them to each otheras violent as a tangoor as gentle as a glissadeand draw the fur of dogs,pull the dust of shedding sunlight,from piles […]
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