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Posted by on Apr 5, 2018 in Poetry | 2 comments

MOLT

MOLT

MOLT 1. At the threshold of the bug To molt or remain in this shell of grey. An earth encased in cloud still shines But bugs don’t mind the shade. It leads this way the...

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Posted by on Jan 25, 2018 in Poetry | 5 comments

DEAR DAD

DEAR DAD

Dear Dad I understand the second world war was tough. You were young and didn’t look back until old age. The petrified the ossified the classified the satisfied Emerged...

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