Dead Poets are liked pursed clams camped in hallow graves
Glassed, cold, mute but wiggling.
Clicking their deep hand prints in secret places
It seems strange to go seeking illumination from such sad & blighted ghosts
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when they rain thier words..are a bit.. still sweet...if not a little.. sour and tart...iip
Interestingly enough... Sylvia Plath's name has come up many times for me this weekend. I too am a fan of Her writing! On another note... Your poem is great, and filled with powerful emotion, very good work