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A Poem

Cruised through slow night, wished for the sleep that headlights refuse — to come now at least where I can see the lines pushing me in the one direction or other

couldn’t help but feel stung — the sling from old break bones that covered a whole list of my pre-grieving years — saw into the barrel, watched water fill up and amused getting in to be cooked



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J.D. Harms

Former hairstylist, perpetual philosophy student, swallowed by poetry, writing, ideas