When first appearing here Clint is sixteen-years old. He claims to be
"not much of a poet," but, "more of a quiet analyst."
He says that he's the "guy in the back of the classroom [who knows]
what's really going on in the scheme of things. [I know] where society is
headed through the general conversation of my classmates. I can get more
out of things than most."
Comment on his poetry at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Go to "Her Hands Are Cold"
Go to "A Cynic's Daydream"