Here are a few of his poems from the first week of NaPoWriMo.
Photos of My Late Grandfather
My face, his image, her pain.
How could a mother in 1978
embrace reflections of a man
buried in 1964?My Filthy Soul
Upside down I turned my body
wash and squeezed
the vacant bottle.Is there nothing that can cleanse me?
Devotion
Precisely at midnight his fingers stroked the keys.
The game was afoot, and he was afloat:
twenty-nine poems to go.
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