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Doug Pugh The Madness of George King George pokes, digs fingers in dirt nurtures, cossets knows roots, not ready yet moves on listens to the guards talk as if he's not there blaming the media, the jackals howl of blood and newsprint in the air remembers himself the noise, the flashes frightened that he was exposed, seen even through the blanket they threw on him strong stems, fibre taut soft curl of leaves tickle his palm and the bud, surging, tumescent teetering on bursting ready to spill full bloom in his hands looks up at the sun, blind orb glaring in that sea of blue sees it all, says nothing, smart like him and the guards sympathise, sorry for the gentle giant talk of his crappy school days, an easy target 53

Profile for Conversation Poetry

CPQ Summer 2012  

CPQ Summer 2012

CPQ Summer 2012  

CPQ Summer 2012

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