untitled poem: Corran…
Jul 2nd, 2008 by Norman
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Corran Kelly plays the mandolin.
Our man from Donegal
stood in with van Morrison
in Belfast one time.
“Van called me golden,” Corran says.
Now his nails are black,
there’s a sore on his thumb,
and hard-times are more than a highway.
A dollar seventy will buy him a tea
here in Starbucks.
Will it pave my way home?
or click on the pidgeon to home
please write to me at normanallandr@yahoo.ca
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