Sad discoveries of the poor
A newfound ignorance
Not surprising to those of knowledge
I cannot contain my disgust
Not my amusement
Quietly contained within myself
If let out, to be dismembered
Yet another observation streams by
Catching as much shit as the one before
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.
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