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Prayer for a Friend Lost to QAnon

Prayer for a Friend Lost to QAnon your rage, it reverberates beyond what the human ear, the living earth herself can safely process, or mend. you must let your own ears find again even the softest chord resounding the planetary heartbeat – 7.83 hertz. let these words stifle the shouts of: save the (fictional) children

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JAY GANDHI POETRY

Digital Revenge The passwords of my Bank accounts shall get buried with me & no skeletons will remain. My self-centered children might guess the names of my dream girl (Deepika Padukone) & childhood crush (Martina Hingis) but will never be able to know about my special character. They shall keep sending pleas to heaven but

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The Darkness as Night Whisperer

The Darkness as Night Whisperer I wouldn’t turn on the light, The darkness said, there’s no need. I’ll overwhelm you, I’ll keep you guessing, That’s just the way I work. Each day in the dark Is a death. In the course Of your life, you’ll die Many deaths. You might As well give up now

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Ladder

The ladder The head mason of the demolition squad shouted the labours to look for the bamboo ladder a tall one about 10 feet The sprawling centuries old mansion needed dozens of ladders but the team had been managing with only one which went missing The workers felled some casuarinas and made a make shift

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The Equilibrium Artist

The Equilibrium Artist Every day as I walk by the Inuksuk beside the Pacific I yearn for an artist who could raise a similar statue in Mosul and Aleppo from the fragments of exploded homes through patient and elaborate work someone who could shape monuments so startling at war sites that they’d shake us from

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An Instance Of Karma

An Instance Of Karma It was a hot August night. Jill was working hard at the local convenience store, and her husband, Jarvis, was working hard also—busily digging her grave in the back yard. He just knew she had been cheating on him. Not that he had any proof. It was the way she smiled

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Red Run

Here in February’s grey I bleed away, Red run into the snow. So many years from home I, here, a fugitive A captive too. The home I had gone away This one not mine, not quite. The whisky jack mocks me The “caw caw” and my soul crawls Into the frozen ground. I will die

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My Swamp Time

MY SWAMP TIME I was barely surviving in Louisiana, unpleasantly and unsuited, a land as shifty, unstable, as a drunken father, where no frog, no gator, ever took a vow of silence on a long hot night, where I couldn’t step outside my door without some critter gnawing on my flesh, and all in the

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A Descriptive Linguistics of Isolation

A Descriptive Linguistics of Isolation Verbs of motion will be the first to go—well, not go which has long gone the way of disappearing into idiom. No, we will lose the careful ones: disembark, sojourn, trek, take leave. Perhaps, even, arrive. There will come a day when we will believe all movement is rooted into

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