Gripping the lectern, rocking it, searching
the faces for the souls, for signs of heartfelt
mindfulness at work, I thought, as I recited
words I wrote in tears: instead of tears,
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This is a poet who can look deeply into his own soul and see the truth- sad as it may be. I want to read more of his work and see what else his words have to tell about the truth.- -as palpably as when a men in double worsted felt the cuff drop to his wrist.
A glimpse into the vulnerability of bearing one’s soul. Beautifully expressed.