The Studio

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A Spate of Poets

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Words

in the light

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Waking up each morning Pieces of my skin stick to my sheets Flesh unbound, pulling away A viscous, visceral stretch in the direction of my movement,...

Excerpt from Postscript #29

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There have been more baby ghosts lately with few fit for heaven. The air in the room is toxic. The government feels...

A Lot

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There is a parking lot in Virginia where plastic Wal-Mart bags now blowTo find a fence post 4 miles out or a...

Out of time

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He most definitely knew what hit him. His family and friends would seek solace in the standard untruth that “at least he...

A memory I can hardly remember…

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A memory I can hardly remember,My first memory?Dangling by a string,So close to being lost.I know it is Spring,The Lilac tree is...

unequivocally

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he wakes from his morphine mist looks up to see my sisters and my mother

Waking

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Waking from dreamsOf manic theaterAnd movie-making,I arrived at a revelationOf the high degreeLife in America todayResembles a Fellini movieOverlain a Monty Python...

hewn and hallowed

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full moon poetryjagged and rawbleeding from the woundsof an ancestral saw back and forth as it goesthrough the passage...

Doughnuts and Kings

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The light always caught me off guardwhen we’d stumble in at 3am with silk screen eyes and half empty stomachs filled with Gatorade...

Tierra Nueva

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In this random pick-up-sticks, double helixMelting pot amalgam and gene pool diasporaOf multiracial physiognomy, skin color,And multilingual saga, rhythm, and songOf...

middle ground

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we find ourselves this long morning of this long week children of division some of us already know this place grew out of it like weeds in...

Anthem

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USA beat USA beat clap USA beat clap clap USA beat