Clyde Kessler’s Poetic Diplomacy

EMBASSY I am teaching a few diplomats about some skeletons that keep walking with their words that sound like extra ribs squeezing a breeze from a stump. My powerpoint is almost pointless, snitches, flogs, knuckles, slumbers, skulls, during the late morning of being alone with so few. They might soon speak like me, with ghosts, …

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