Got on my dead man's suit and my smilin' skull ring My lucky graveyard boots and a song to sing I got a song to sing, it'll keep me out of the cold And I'll meet you further on up the road
Sam Rasnake, a sardonic twist of fate, is a pathetic excuse for a poet who once dreamed he was a human who dreamed he was a teacher who thought he could play guitar. Along the way - a soul-mate, two children - one collection, Necessary Motions; three chapbooks, Religions of the Blood, Lessons in Morphology, and Inside a Broken Clock. He even thinks he edits a magazine - Blue Fifth Review.
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