A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
The bra I took off at 4:45 through the sleeve of my dress
and put down somewhere I find on my grandmother’s hutch
in the kitchen, incongruous, surrounded by jars of jam
They have erected scaffolds by the bay And are painting the high towers of power lines. The seagulls circle over their heads Sobbing for their lost lookouts. I count. There … Continue reading →
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