If you are hungry for complicated layers of displacement spiked with an uneasiness of any sort of assimilation, as I am, Alex Dimitrov’s poetry might feel like just the right home for your homelessness. Bulgaria-born and Detroit-raised, Dimitrov [...]
go ahead tread on me see if I care I am already unhuggable as a cactus and too big to fit on any lap keep your excuses short or better yet keep them to yourself any
We stack wafers the length of our arms in half-hour rotations, inspect the chocolate coats. You’ve eaten a Kit Kat before-—at least you’ve seen them on newsstands next to gum, but this isn’t about the finished product. This is about the factory, the chugging machines
the back of my hand and this neighborhood, which is devolving even now into a semblance of Detroit. I know not to lead a horse to water because that won’t end well. I know my name and to the mirror’s mute face
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