the faces of you i never knew
a prose poem
poetic musings
what to say about the time of now? I don’t know. It’s June. It’s muggy. The world is falling more and more apart and I’m broke and paralyzed, nervous system-wise, about money; I can’t bear another bout of burnout. But there is poetry and there is art. I found a sequel to an orca whale friend, and you lingering in my inbox waiting for me to find her, poems can be feminine, can’t they?
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