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Shane Neilson

March-April 2018

Head Pressed to Stone at St. Vincent de Paul Cemetery

Poetry by Shane Neilson

Shane Neilson

I say your name and I do grieve. All names dredge the deep, but they fail to take heed and sprout. Hereabouts, mustard seed got choked by conglomerate needs rendered too economic. Scrub grass debriefs our fields. Old Dutch farmers sing about crop yield and claim to have never yielded, but wrote wills to sons […] More »