Consider Art
In November 1996, my father took his gun, walked towards the bush at the south end of his farm and shot himself. In the months after that event, I wrote a lot of poems, most of them unpublishable, about how I was feeling. How does one transform the abject self-pity I was experiencing into a piece that would engage a reader?
I can’t say where this is from (yet), but it’s very special.
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