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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.
Read moreHe 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.
Read moreOn 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.
Read moreWhat 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.
Read moreYou 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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