collapsing under a dogwood
white flowers falling
heaven fluttering
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New Muses for a Posthuman Age
Late last year I wrote a 10 sonnet sequence entitled New Muses for a Posthuman Age, the idea being to update the goddesses and answer...
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SING, DAMN YOU
Let's not sit around waiting for friends
who'll never show up—not with those soldiers outside.
Wave them all in for a gin.
I'd like to leave before...
