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Scribbling.

Unearthed some old poetry from the Nanaimo days. I’m almost embarassed to admit that some of this is mine… but I found among it some poetry that isn’t mine. It’s by a friend of mine, who, consequently, I met during workshops in Malaspina. I kept it because I felt like it was directed at me. Even if it wasn’t it certainly spoke to me. I’ve been trying to hack out a response off and on for years. That’s what I’ve been playing with this evening, but I’m still not sure if I’ve hit the mark yet. However, I think I might be able to take this one to the workshop =)

Now, if I could just buckle down on those readings, I’d be laughing. Har har.

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