Tag Archives: John Eliot

Messenger 4.10 a.m. I’m not looking for someone awake, just saw you on line, don’t really know you. We met, I found you cold. My wife tells me you are warm, kind; maybe it was me, full of himself, il poeta, the concert. Signed a lot of books that night in late sun and beautyContinue reading “Messenger. a poem by John Eliot”