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Digital Art (iPad)
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An Amity of Witches
We make no bones,
it was the sea that held its breath
and deferred to you, our mother. You,
who set aside the rancor of tides
and gathered...
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The Waiting Room
Chairs creak, restless and stiff,
old man in tweed mutters prayers, beads clicking
against rough fingers—years worn thin by faith.
A mother huddles over a sick child,
eyes...
