Jul/Aug 2001

e c l e c t i c a  
s p o t l i g h t   a u t h o r



Tom Sheehan

Four Poems

They wore soft felt hats, brimmed, jackets
so odd you could not find a mate, but boots
with horsehide laces, wide belts, and looked
westward where the sun would set part-ways
through the afternoon.


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