Poetry Posted on October 26, 2020 by davidguerrieriwrites What is poetry, but a language of the dead. It’s an informal dance, a shared cigarette. Poetry is but a one night stand. It’s a wine ring left, sheets, stained between strangers. Ryan and Jessica, 2011 Share this:TwitterFacebookLinkedInRedditTumblrLike this:Like Loading...
Words Of An Average White Male 