
Dirt by Jeremy Snyder
And as the rocks melt on this soup skin, in this pot left on simmer for a few million years, these memories push up through the soft spots. And
And as the rocks melt on this soup skin, in this pot left on simmer for a few million years, these memories push up through the soft spots. And
(after Beau Taplin) I am here to tell you what your mother can’t: Your body is not a temple. You are not some fragile thing that crumbles. You will not
Poetry Prompts Look up fifty-five of your favorite poems and use the third letter of the fourth word in every second line to write a sestina about loss. Make sure
| words that get in your teeth Share on facebook Share on twitter Share on linkedin Share on email Share on stumbleupon Share on email James is a poet in
“who the fuck does slanty-eyes think she is? why won’t [you] do anything about the wonton?” Sharon Osbourne, speaking about her co-worker Julie Chen for $5 you get the Wednesday
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