A Daily Self-indulgent Postcolonial/Feminist/Poetry-in-Progress/Culture Blog
My trunk like that of a tree trumpets
unexpectedly where before it had been quiet
and out of breath
My hand blooms open like a nest
busy and persistent, becoming in niceness
and folding to stress
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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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