Mar 2021
I never drink *** inland
something about the salty air
and a pirates’ soul
swaying in the night breeze
I can hear the waves crashing down
as the seven sisters entice my senses
I am alone enough to part with myself
and let the word farmer
slur his images across the night’s canvas
I leave off a lesser crime
as poetry is left dripping off the page
something about the salty air
and a pirates’ soul
swaying in the night breeze
I can hear the waves crashing down
as the seven sisters entice my senses
I am alone enough to part with myself
and let the word farmer
slur his images across the night’s canvas
I leave off a lesser crime
as poetry is left dripping off the page
A couple of years ago “Flor de Cana” released a boxed version of their eighteen year aged ***. It included a booklet of poetry from around the world. Those ******* get it....
