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Skeins of smoke in the sky
The cornfields suffer snow
Moon, barn, bird, as in
a photogram: objects
exposed as layered light
Love as a joint into which
a little blood has leaked
(scissors, a straight pin
a pair of hands) And why
not cry in the root cellar?
Loose ice in the wind, grief
freezes and falls through the air
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In her new book, Danish poet Olga Ravn writes with open love, pity, and compassion for her strange yet familiar creations.
Draconian individual punishment distracts from systemic change and reinforces the cruelest and most racist system of incarceration on the planet.
Our well-being depends on a better understanding of how the logic of labor has twisted our relationship with pleasure.