Mistah Kurtz—he dead. A penny for the Old Guy I We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! Our dried voices, when We whisper together Are quiet and meaningless As wind in dry grass Or rats’ feet over broken glass In our dry cellar Shape without […]
I really like this poem. Just sensible advice said poetically. His book is available on Amazon, but hey, poets….consider publishing for Kindle, please. Trust me on this. You will be far more widely read if you publish in a format that people can read on their Kindle/iPad/Ereader.
I have a blister, the inevitable product of Friction and confined spaces. I limp home slowly. Funny how a little toe Can make you cry. Nature’s cushion: A shield of newly-killed skin and fluid preserving its replacement. Soon the dead skin will fall away New skin in its place, no pain. A callous remains.