Category: poetry

Feeling Like Some Hemingway this Sunday

Along With Youth A porcupine skin,Stiff with bad tanning,It must have ended somewhere.Stuffed horned owlPompousYellow eyed;Chuck-wills-widow on a biased twigSooted with dust.Piles of old magazines,Drawers of boy’s lettersAnd the line of loveThey must have ended somewhere.Yesterday’s Tribune is goneAlong with youthAnd the canoe that went to pieces on the beachThe year of the big stormWhen…

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