I met Kevin Dublin when he was 22 and I was a little bit older, I think at some university poetry event he’d invited me to in Wilmington, N.C. Me, practically still a rookie reporter but already on the verge of a burnout, a caustic combination of neurotic and hard-partying, running a newspaper-hosted poetry blog
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Daily haiku: Bridge – Ours was just a branch/ Easily blown off with wind/ Building stone one now
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Daily haiku: Beginning – Butterflies flutter/ Hornets fly by unnoticed/ Sweet puppy blindness
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Daily haiku: Volatile – Partner of your life/ Barely matters next moment/ Frustrations explode
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