From the verses of Shakespeare to the violence of Football, a soft hand on the nape of my neck to a rim's hard rattle after a dunk, the mute of Miles to the rhymes of Rakim, Hershey's chocolate to a garlic peppered, cedar-planked salmon, Joel Dias-Porter's thoughts scatter like grains of black sand across a wind-blown beach.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Light Through the Blind
Here is day two's entry. For whatever reason I write more poems when I'm running bad at poker, and judging from my results the last three days this 30 poems in 30 days thing might turn out to be a cakewalk.
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