Rob Plath

Delicious “Raw” Poems: Review of My Soul is a Broken Down Valise by Rob Plath

a father beats his son w/ in its walls where bones are broken more than bread sounds fucked up but it’s the price we pay for the birth of a true fucking poet (“the price”) When I was little, we’d help my grandpa scoop up buckets of live oysters in their shells from one of …

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