We’ve been going without lately, living a strange, reduced life.
Issue 20.2 | 26 November 2020
Poetry is piths and gists.
IT’S THE SMALL THINGS . . .
that count, and I read that they too will die, the unknown and unseen insects who befriend roses, on the window ledges of prisons.
the cul de sac
after Sylvia Plath
Human/Kind Journal issue 1.6 (June 2019)
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