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Of Dreams and Eulogy
by Nisarga Sinha Ours is a Winter love story.My messy bun,your midnight laughterandstars.I have been visitingthe stars on my terraceof late.Andthe Nebulaerupting from the dead lilacs.The heavy tinge of forgetfulnessrunning through my veinsand the evening street.Yesterday,I saw J. Alfred. Prufrockand the unfinished poemof Eliot’s oblivion,laughing together, singing what they could have been,andGoing to Bob Dylanto…
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Polar Vortex
by William Doreski The cold pouring down from the Arctic has toughened into an entity. Some kind of hideous animal, not to be petted, trusted, or even fed. Let it forage as it will. Let it growl and claw the pine-trunks. Don’t let it into the house unless you think it’s about to produce a…