Marine Petrossian’s antipoetry METAPHYSICS our father— I said but he didn’t let me continue rather strange— I never say our father perhaps it was a dream or maybe I was bewildered to see that he exists our father— I said…
The suitcase of Hermes, Poetry
Donnaluna
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Martyrs of Human Foolishness
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YSP Sculpture in Landscape
The suitcase of Hermes, Poetry
The Wakefield Poets, Laura Potts
The suitcase of Hermes, Poetry
Poets of the World, Muhammad Shanazar, Pakistan
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Sulle rive del Resco
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My Blue Colour
ANDREA PACE I was but a teenager when I met Robert Johnson for the first time, the man who sold his soul to the devil in order to learn to play the guitar. I was not a cheerful teenager, I…