day of small things,
slowly steadily worked
as we rest the dust motes,
shine as gold.
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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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The world as I know it ends
and right now
a little Tibetan boy tends to his yak.
what is
more alive than this boy,
the fire from his cheeks,
the snow bed mountain behind him.
this...
