A Daily Self-indulgent Postcolonial/Feminist/Poetry-in-Progress/Culture Blog
You call me down
you calm me down
you call me down
I fall down
The weight of nights
the height of days
earth is garden
all warmth migrates
Rain ripens:
material, nonsense.
I catch my breath,
I cut my eyes. Cry.
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We heard that At's 28-year-old ex died. I expected that everything would have stopped when I opened the eyes I shut in disbelief. I ki...
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