Books for People with Print Disabilities. Internet Archive Books. Uploaded by Tracey Gutierres on April 29, 2013.
Baltimore, M. USA : Dolphin-Moon Press. inlibrary; printdisabled; ; americana. Books for People with Print Disabilities. SIMILAR ITEMS (based on metadata). Terms of Service (last updated 12/31/2014).
New and selected poems by Judson Jerome.
The Village : New & Selected Poems. AbeBooks may have this title (opens in new window).
4 poems of Judson Jerome. Judson Jerome (1927 - August 5, 1991 in Xenia, Ohio) was an American poet, author, and literary critic, perhaps best known for having written the poetry column for Writer's Digest for thirty years.
Spiritual Musings: A Theological Interpretation of Life. Spiritual Musings II: Sermons, Musings & Exegesis. Bricks: A Collection of Poetry (Spiritual Musings Series).
Judson Jerome, a poet and writer, died on Monday in Greene Memorial Hospital in Xenia, Ohio. He was 64 years old and lived in Yellow Springs, Ohio. He died of lung cancer, his wife, Marty Jerome, said. His most recent book of poetry, "Jonah and Job," published by John Daniel Press, consists of two long poems. The Village and Other Poems" has been reissued by Dolphin Moon Press. He also wrote an autobiography, "Flight From Innocence," and a novel, "Nude.
Books related to Southwind: New and Selected Poems. The Way To Wealth (Mobi Classics).
Southwind - Jerome Strong. SOUTHWIND: New and Selected Poems. Inquiries can be made by contacting the author at Academe. Southwind: new and selected poems /. by Jerome Strong.
The store looked closed for years. I lost my way there once In a Sunday kind of quiet, Sunday kind of afternoon light On a street of red-brick tenements ow do you like that? I said it again. I lost my way there once In a Sunday kind of quiet, Sunday kind of afternoon light On a street of red-brick tenements ow do you like that? I said it again today upon waking. That street went on forever And all along I could feel the pins In my back, prickling The dark and heavy cloth. St. Thomas Aquinas I left parts of myself everywhere The way absent-minded people leave Gloves and umbrellas Whose colors are sad from dispensing so much bad luck. I was on a park bench asleep