“These Things Can I Love,” by Page Lambert
Jan01

“These Things Can I Love,” by Page Lambert

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”–Mary Oliver   Listening to Zuzu Bollin’s sexy blues, sipping Johnnie Walker Red, courting loneliness. Loud music, bone-deep bass lyrics. Blood-pumping brass. The spine knows what to do, knows how to stretch the urge until it whines like catgut and fiddle, stretch the loneliness so thin it wraps like muscle around the angles of the skeleton. Body...

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“Negrita,” by Faith Scott
Jan01

“Negrita,” by Faith Scott

Vieques doors closed, shades drawn names that can tickle your tongue and slip in between the blinds and out into the air where they collapse in sudden rain drops and hide in the dust kicked up only with the heavy traffic of bare brown feet if you are careful you can peer between and your eyes might float through turbulent silence with only the occasional grunt and sigh whimper and cry there is a child in the corner there you’ll see...

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