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Blending Techniques 1 & 2
by Lauren Bender Don’t tell methere are peoplein this room; I can see thembut that does notmean they exist. My sweater sleeveis mouth-soakedwith the fear of swallowing.I am on a missionto be small with furtive eyeslike any animalwith suspicions, pricking its earsto the distant sobsin the hills, angry in anticipation ofbeing hunted. Thenangry I never…
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In Ohio There Is a Window Always Open
by Lena Ziegler and I want someone to notice my skin sewn crooked from patches of light I know women embarrassed to be naked in the presence of no one no one a self they have selved into being I know a man whose bones linger exposed whose muscles tense when touched I know a…
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Self Portrait
by Kelly Stacy I woke up this morning & was over Kelly Glen Stacy,burdened with his dryskin & squirming thoughts,so I threw on a light jacket& the air was as fresh as it was gonna get& I walked a few miles for a sandwich & lemonadecause sometimes even I knowif I just get realhigh all…
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Light Blubs
by Katie Pukash The days seem to slide together like a slammed door.I swear anxiety sits hostage in my marrow.There is not enough red wine in the worldto solve the problem that is my chest.Does my trauma have a name?Should I give my trauma a name?If I name my trauma will she follow me like…
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If My Name Were a Verb
by Glen Armstrong My body is here again.It doesn’t want to be.I’m angryat my clothing. I feel unbalanced when I watchmovies about peoplestarting overin new towns. My body has been to Detroit.It’s best to say that dangerisn’t dangerous. I’m angrythat the sensuous yet pragmaticshape of a canegets wastedon Christmas candy. It’s best to say that…
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Two Poems
by Toi Sibley My Poems Are My SongsMy songs are my poemsbut I can’t sing their hooksI never had the abilityit wasn’t taken by a crookanchored in gravitationbelieving my limitationsmy poems have been wrongeddeprived of becoming my songs. My Lover’s ArmsMy lovers arms are like an ocean when it is quiet and stillcreeping up onto the…