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I am never disappointed when I read Wes Thompson. He gives fresh meaning to words I thought were cliche; he shows me poetic technique clothed in genuis. He wakes me up.
Reading his stuff you can tell his mind works great for poetry.
I watch a Robin take wing to skyAs snowflakes stick to my eyelashesAnd I blink them out, as tearsTo a passerby I'm sobbingAnd maybe that is not untrueIt is getting colder every day