Here I am at the Granary about to read my poem.
Here are my old poetry mates doing a ditty about a homeless man with a cardboard sign. Jeanette knows my homeless man who will be moving into his own pad in a week thanks to my and other folk’s efforts. Hollis had a rock band when he was fifteen and wrote songs and poetry.
Cardboard facades stuck on the road trying to give their poor poetry away. Don’t look now, here comes the hippie Jesus with a plastic Kerouac on the dash.