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A few words on my poem making as I turn inexorably into the home stretch of this life.
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It is the turning month,the time when life sleepsand our dreams shiver...when night grows bolder, darker, colder,and daylight seems soweak, slight, be..
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Unlike you,I will not renouncethe passion of my youth,now I am old andthe fire burns low.I do regret my sins,mostly of omission:failing to tell of lov..
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Love is not known, andcan never be known...Love cannot be weighedlike bullion or flour.Love cannot be roped--a wild mustang runningfree, never tethere..
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They were once fine,long-fingered and aristocratic, photographedresting lightly on a model'sshoulder as she wore a mink and clutched a Gucci.In childh..
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I meander this maze called world, seeing darkness everywhere,even in the bright midday light, my soul ripped by doubt andfear and utter loneliness, on..
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