Poetry

Ramblings of an idiot.. by Josh Kilbourn
Exiled by greed, lust and self torment. Bestowed ignorance.
Swallowed up, consumed by compulsion.
If it was 258 A.D. I would be a Pirate, sailing with the Gothic-Herulic fleet.
Ravaging towns coast to coast, with a multitude of slaves and wenches.
Historically I'd be the esteemed hero of every child's story book.
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Untitled by Emma Olson
first, bundle. not longing to break free, huddled mass upon the
sidewalk. no longer able to separate himself from the blanket
that envelops him. grey body blending into grey sky, street and
I click clack by in high heels that barely skim the surface while
he breathes it with his being. cheek against the artificial stone
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if we are alone; language by Megan London
if we are alone; language
after oppen
I am too close or
they are too close or
we are all too close
to each other / to this &
buying time
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America'd by Ben Nardolilli
Canada outside the bathroom door,
Knocking, asking,
If I'm alright, sliding
A card under the slit,
His number on it,
He says I should call him
If it happens again,
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Make-over by H.E. Mantel
She got herself an
ankle tattoo, one with a
scalloped ribbon. And
PURR-manent makeup
-highly-erremovable!,
a hair weave, then an
Italian Cut, and
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The Woman's Song by Terra Brigando
She begins by singing an aria
up on 52nd street, right between
the second hand store and the flea bitten dog
tied up outside the Chinese fish market, his ragged bark
setting the tone to her song like a bruised drum.
She is singing in soprano, and although she is dressed
in her one best dress, this is not an oratorio;
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