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Tag Archives: small
Dam
She swallows stones, or is made to—what feels like a martyred plunge of boulders. I am, by proxy, crushed. Is this what is meant by god-dam? The circulatory flush of light to dark dammed, and no god gets in … Continue reading
Elegy
small hands folding paper cranes as grief rises
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged crane, grief, hands, John Biscello, Literary, paper, Poetry, small
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John Biscello 