A Daily Self-indulgent Postcolonial/Feminist/Poetry-in-Progress/Culture Blog
Rain makes
unanticipated patterns
on the windows
like broken glass.
And on the street
windshields
like cobwebby ice.
The old man inside
is laughing.
Or coughing.
__
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I've been breaking down about every tiny thing and everywhere, so Big A suggested I should apply to take the rest of the semester off wo...
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