JOHN CLARE
I love John Clare’s (3 July 1793 – 20 May 1864) poems, but today I wonder: did he exist?
I could imagine dreaming up someone like John Clare.
I could also be the one who thought up the title: “An Invite, To Eternity.”
He runs along and bites at all he meets:
They shout and hollo down the noisy streets.
But I don’t really think I am John Clare.
I can’t write about badgers at all.
I was born on December 11th.
I could imagine dreaming up someone like John Clare.
I could also be the one who thought up the title: “An Invite, To Eternity.”
He runs along and bites at all he meets:
They shout and hollo down the noisy streets.
But I don’t really think I am John Clare.
I can’t write about badgers at all.
I was born on December 11th.
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