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Monica Nicolau's avatar

What a beautiful, powerful poem. It turned my eyes toward the forgotten, neglected, invisible. I wonder, does my reading your poem make the forgotten son less forgotten? If none of the weeping, forgotten sons know that I am reading your poem, are they any less invisible when I read your poem?

I am reminded (often) of your poem of the dog, almost run over by a driver. It ends:

Why do poets think

They can change the world?

The only life I can save

Is my own.

Not true, not true.

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Shemaiah Gonzalez's avatar

WOW! I have shivers on this one.

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