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Archive

Today nothing makes sense.

Today nothing makes sense. The vertebrae of bravery has snapped, sending out tiny twinkling shards brighter than the light of my two eyes.

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He wants to say to her that

He wants to say to her that the sun will once again play checkers on her back; that the smell of grass is not lost. Lying: a throat lump.

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On Smith St. the scream escapes

On Smith St. the scream escapes. Unexpected, unbridled. The stink of his destitution acknowledged briefly in the shallow flight of pigeons.

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What is a second skin of soot

What is a second skin of soot when Sass, not even as old as the bread in the box, won’t take her mother’s milk? In the pit he digs faster.

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You come to Ghana determined

You come to Ghana determined to be possessed. We eat quail eggs, drink quinine-laced water and gossip about your malaria-induced demons.

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