An annuated Irishman with a spotty publication history trying to write one decent poem every couple of days for the rest of his miserable God-bedeviled life in the obviously contradictory hope that he will thereby find salvation.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Sijo: Early March
Crusted snow on garage rooftops not yet melted: white on
grey
In the yard behind my house, brown grasses snaking through
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