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After I read the first two remarkable lines, I turned away to see who wrote this poem. And of course, it was C.D. Wright. I went on to read the rest of this poem, took a breath, then mused, this is art, and to label it a poem just doesn't seem to give it justice, to make it bigger and more important for the world to see. But too few are reading to "see." I did, though. I read it. And so did you Robin. Thanks.

“While fishing, we throw them back until one early morning we set our hook and pull up a whopper. Now that's what they call a keeper. No supper for this one. No sir. Gonna stuff and mount this on the wall and admire at the thing to know that while I had no part in creating such a thing, I can sure admire it until the day I die.” Said someone long forgotten who left this note on the wall right beneath the whopper.

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