“I wrote a poem today,” said my good friend, who I’m pretty sure had never written a poem. We were smoking a joint – leaving the real world behind. I asked if he would read it out loud. He said yes, so we sat down on a park bench, smoked the rest of the joint, and once we were both feeling jittery and nervous, he launched into it.
theaftermathmusic.com 
Please tell me it was Sampson.
Softbodddyyyyyy, we try to remain anonymous about our poets (see blacked out faces on homepage). All I can tell you is that the writer in this situation has an impeccable haircut and reads novels about coding.