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: Click to share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr Click to share on Mastodon (Opens in new window) Mastodon Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X Like Loading...