He was a simple man of simple words, or high-school girl with broken heart who thought they had a message, or a call, or not. Arriving with a sense of the absurd, a bittersweet purview on life and love, together with a gift for nuanced phrase, appreciating how the language plays upon the mind and tongue, they rise above the well-worn similes, the tired cliches for days, perhaps for weeks. Then comes the time when human ugliness shows up to flay the budding poet. The evidence of crimes committed: smoky circles, nameless gray reminders of whose gifts they took away.
A tribute to those who have left disheartened or disgusted. Re-post from another account...remembered to me by Lori Jones McCaffery's "Playmates".