Torn Jeans, - Poem by DAVID GERARDINO
DEATH, you pervert the body
with stink, you fill these cemeteries,
with my family and friends.
YOU reach out for the body, not the
YOU become a comedian when the
moon shows up.
YOU teach that every thing or one,
has one last phone call.
Comments about Torn Jeans, by DAVID GERARDINO
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You