216 Readings | 1 Rating
In the space between breath and paper.
Resides the romantic.
Thinker, a curse.
Of summer night wakefulness.
Rich humidity and red wine headaches.
The Milk Maid
Dena Rash Guzman
I can't conquer my scorn or my wandering fear. / I'm no patient cow; I am a slave to my chores, / / forged in tillies and measures of…
the left coast
Jen put me / on the train after the kind man in silly goggles took links out of her watch in the mall. She and I spent our first decade of life…
More by Moriah LaChapell
As the Crow Flies
I am tired / of trying / to make sense / of your death. / / Maybe I should / dye my hair. / / Maybe I should / buy red lipstick. / / …
Halfway / to ripening / when the berries / begin to turn purple / and sweeten. / / Soon / I will be / tasting grapes / and spitting…
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An herbal remedy for headaches? Lovely poem, a light touch, not all revealed.
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