I could hear each poem spoken aloud, even though I've never met Mick, His Back Pocket sounded (in my mind) like a carnie at a circus or the potions man with his cart filled with tinctures in amber colored bottles.
Straight to the gut.
ORIGINAL COMMENT
I could hear each poem spoken aloud, even though I've never met Mick,
His Back Pocket sounded (in my mind) like a carnie at a circus or the potions man with his cart filled with tinctures in amber colored bottles.
Straight to the gut.