Extrapolations poetry To be awkward in every photograph or to understand the numbers but not the score and to be happy, mostly, about it The Trombone Master’s is a lonely road but keep on, at least in spite. I couldn’t even sell the thing if I tried. Share this: Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr Share on Mastodon (Opens in new window) Mastodon Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Share on X (Opens in new window) X Like Loading...