mailman, lover of poetry who had the kind of blue eyes that almost hurt when you looked into them. so hard to connect this peaceful man, who cared for his ill & aging father, to his hobby of indoor shooting ranges.
I'm a cook. And I write, sometimes about food, mostly poems. I make stuff. I get lost. I'm worried about vanishing bees, melting icecaps, the decrease of civility in the world, seedless watermelons, and whether there will be enough time for me to get it all right.
1 comment:
Ah, the complexity...
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