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Tag: and the poet could have walked home slowly with both feet wet from stepping in puddles as sunlight appeared in the sky again to touch water drops shining on cobwebs.

Posted on May 7, 2019May 7, 2019

“The Sonnet Is Dead”, a sonnet by Joanna Cleary

From the Summer 2018 issue of Temz Review here is a sonnet (of course) by Joanna Cleary. I like its ironic treatment of contemporary lit crit certainties. And of course,…

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