IN THE HEYDAYS OF HIS EYES
(taut jeans dancing)

An Anthology of Poetry about Being Young and Growing Up
 
 
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AUTHORS


UNTITLED

Robert J. Conley

I am not a shaman and my poems are not magic how can I presume by scratching out my thoughts by this small act how can I or anyone presume to claim the knowledge and the power that’s gained by years of study and by fasting sacrifice and from holy visions? If I believe in sin then such a claim to me is sin. Language is sacred a gift from God and its misuse is sinful. A poem should be honest. A man who tries a poem should be humble. My poem might be a prayer an offering or a joke and it is sacred only insofar as it is honest— no more—no less.

 
 
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