Jennifer Moore

    When sunlight becomes an object, my echo creates a hole in sound: a thousand doors, many handshakes of air. Like the snapping...
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Gale Marie Thompson

Would that I could / That we closed the reactors / Would that we become / A blanket of cement in the forest / That we hide there with the nettles / And watch the Eagle land again and again

Dolly Lemke

Thank you, boss, I really needed a Tiffany’s key chain // I definitely get the passion, Boss says / It’s like golf / Poetry = golf // Vomit...

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