A bard on the wire, a voice in the wilderness, a home page for exiles trying to get home. Everybody is an exile. Maybe artists just realise it. "Like a bird on the wire, like a drunk in a midnight choir, I have tried, in my way, to be free."
Could you write these one breath snapshots as haiku? Or do you find that, as Roger McGough says, "to express yourself in seventeen syllables is very diffic-"
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