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Yasmin Belkhyr

If you dissect the poem, this is what you will find: a handful of broken glass, salt bedding routes into our cheeks. If you crack an egg, something spills. The rabbit is limp & yet, the moon continues to glow. The rabbit is limp & yet, here I am, mouth stupid and dry. Palm of… Continue reading Yasmin Belkhyr

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Amateur Poet · American Culture · Contemporary · Online Anthology · Online Magazine · Periodical · Poetry · Prose Poetry

Laura Straub

We go into the trees and find a field of wildflowers. Singing, we pick, pick apart and pull together until heaps of flowers fall out of our arms. Milkweed, queen anne’s lace, indigo, poppies, buttercups. Daisies, lavender, bulbous eyebright, until there are none left. Ants and aphids crawl down our backs like sweat. Bees and… Continue reading Laura Straub

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Pierre-Albert Jourdan

You cannot become attached to human beings, things, or landscapes without suffering immediately taking up a position at your side. This is probably a trite remark. Yet a much stranger fate brings you face to face with uprootedness. It is better, then, to accept the suffering at your side. And illuminate it with love. —… Continue reading Pierre-Albert Jourdan

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Charles Baudelaire

The Desire To Paint Unhappy perhaps is the man, but happy the artist, who is torn with this desire. I burn to paint a certain woman who has appeared to me so rarely, and so swiftly fled away, like some beautiful, regrettable thing the traveller must leave behind him in the night. It is already… Continue reading Charles Baudelaire

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Gertrude Stein

A light in the moon the only light is on Sunday. What was the sensible decision was that notwithstanding many declarations and more music, not even notwithstanding the choice and a torch and a collection, notwithstanding the celebrating hat and a vacation and even more noise than cutting, notwithstanding Europe and Asia and being overbearing,… Continue reading Gertrude Stein

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