With Halloween right around the corner, the folks at POETRCRUSH are getting down right creepy. No really, I mean, really really creepy! Check out their marvelous list: 12 Dead Poets (I Would F*#%&). Here's a sample from Kristy Bowen writing to the poetry hunk of hunks, Old Possum himself:

Dear Tom.
I’ve thought about it and you’re right, April is the cruelest month. I think of you all afternoon at the bank, the sleeves of your dress shirt rolled just above your wrists, holding the short stub of a pencil bent over the massive wooden desk, wiping your forehead and beginning again to write. Oh Tom, my nerves are bad tonight. What are you thinking? When summer came it wrecked me. I dreamed of clairvoyantes and tiny pearl eyes for weeks. Your voice a yellow fog that licked its way up and down my spine. I wrote poems about coffee spoons and clties crumbling around me.I imagine you the calmness surrounded by tempestuous women and hundreds of unruly cats. I have known the hours, known them all. But really, that is not what I meant. Not at all.

Jump over and check out the other 11. Much to blush over.

Originally Published: October 25th, 2012