03-24-2020, 09:41 PM
03-25-2020, 02:05 AM
Damn it. RIP Tom. I'll miss his wit and his cantankerous approach to poetry.
Damn
Damn
03-25-2020, 02:07 AM
(03-24-2020, 09:41 PM)billy Wrote: [ -> ]i just found out that one of our older members [Tom], passed away last year.. he was a valuable member of site with a wry sense of humour. bye Tom.That's sad news. Tom had a very keen eye for critique and kept me in line many times when I tried to take too much licence.
Much respect.
03-25-2020, 03:42 AM

03-25-2020, 09:49 AM
Sad to hear this. He will be missed.
03-25-2020, 05:55 PM
I liked him for his honesty. He wasn't afraid to say what was on his mind. The site will miss him, I have missed him.
03-26-2020, 01:23 AM
oh 
he got me to be a better critic and poet real big, and i'm pretty sure i'm in one sense imitative of him whenever i comment on a piece


he got me to be a better critic and poet real big, and i'm pretty sure i'm in one sense imitative of him whenever i comment on a piece

05-28-2020, 04:14 AM
We were kindred, he was my brother. What a wonderful guy. Hopefully we will meet again.
dale
dale
06-07-2020, 10:19 AM
Oh man,
sending out my well wishes to his family. This year has been so tough
sending out my well wishes to his family. This year has been so tough
06-10-2020, 03:54 AM
Oh dear, such sad news. I've missed his bark and bite for some time now, he had a way of always getting the whole root with the weed and his comments where considered and helpful, so sad.
In his own words
I breathe to live; though each hauled hookah breath,
bubbles through tenacious tears of salted, slimy death.
Hear me suck cold setting air through crackling, crumpled caves
in expectorating exorcism, rib-rattling heaving waves.
Inspired by addiction to the slow and breathless prose,
words are better spoken softly than on paper pruinose
with flecks of ash and spittle – my trademark lithograph –
uncopied in my lifetime, though a fitting epitaph.
Tectak
2013
In his own words
I breathe to live; though each hauled hookah breath,
bubbles through tenacious tears of salted, slimy death.
Hear me suck cold setting air through crackling, crumpled caves
in expectorating exorcism, rib-rattling heaving waves.
Inspired by addiction to the slow and breathless prose,
words are better spoken softly than on paper pruinose
with flecks of ash and spittle – my trademark lithograph –
uncopied in my lifetime, though a fitting epitaph.
Tectak
2013