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POEM 344: "technophobia/" by Beth Gordon
"This one looks like / my maternal grandmother: her mouth hinged: a squeezebox of monotone syllables & unlikely words: / a doppelganger of wrinkles."
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POEM 343: "Inklings" by Angela Arnold (@AngelaArnold777)
"They may even have names,
amongst themselves, the people
peopling our dreams.
Could have things to discuss,
when our backs are turned
into the legitimate light of day."
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POEM 343: "Inklings" by Angela Arnold (@AngelaArnold777)
"They may even have names,
amongst themselves, the people
peopling our dreams.
Could have things to discuss,
when our backs are turned
into the legitimate light of day."
⬇️LINK BELOW⬇️
#Poem#Poetry#NewPoem
POEM 343: "Inklings" by Angela Arnold (@AngelaArnold777)
"They may even have names,
amongst themselves, the people
peopling our dreams.
Could have things to discuss,
when our backs are turned
into the legitimate light of day."
⬇️LINK BELOW⬇️
#Poem#Poetry#NewPoem
The key is to keep asking yourself the same question, again and again and again: this is your life - what do you want to pay attention to?
-- Catherine Price
POEM 342 "The Station Ghazal" by Annie Zaidi (@anniezaidi)
"Winter was like spring and spring ablaze like summer
It rained all of last year outside the station
He scratches his waist, she lays out blue towels
The end is always near outside the station"
⬇️LINK BELOW⬇️
#Poem
POEM 342 "The Station Ghazal" by Annie Zaidi (@anniezaidi)
"Winter was like spring and spring ablaze like summer
It rained all of last year outside the station
He scratches his waist, she lays out blue towels
The end is always near outside the station"
⬇️LINK BELOW⬇️
#Poem
POEM 341: "Adam and Eve after Eden" by Patricia Nelson
"We rarely dream of Eden now.
How the width of the angel slid over us,
slow and horizontal, like a weight on a wire."
⬇️LINK BELOW⬇️
#Poem#Poetry#NewPoem#PoetryCommunity
POEM 341: "Adam and Eve after Eden" by Patricia Nelson
"We rarely dream of Eden now.
How the width of the angel slid over us,
slow and horizontal, like a weight on a wire."
⬇️LINK BELOW⬇️
#Poem#Poetry#NewPoem#PoetryCommunity
Memory is a spiderweb. It hangs in a corner and collects dust. Until you need it to catch a fly.
-- Elizabeth Bear, Dust: A Novel (Jacob's Ladder Book 1)