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Is poetry, should it be, “political”? The question, for me, evaporates once it’s acknowledged that poetic imagination or intuition is never merely unto-itself, free-floating, or self-enclosed. It’s radical, meaning, root-tangled i [...]
Spring nights you pillow your head on a sack of rich compost Charcoal, your hair
sheds sparks through your muttered dreams Deep is your sleep in the starless dark
and you wake in your live skin to show me a tulip [...]
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