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. . . who’d swallowed your gaze, the very
your heart, there
where it refracted, once, within the
wet rippling of that
reproachable mirror. wanted your
hands back, didn’t you, the pressure your
fingers exerted in
molding earth to the
radiant anatomy. twirled spoons, tapped
shadows, attempted to wean from the
rock those lost
sonorities. were little more, now, than the
residue of that chimeric lustre, the
backwash of what, in
its reflections, had long since
dissolved. bone of your bone, breath of your
breath, how will you recognize your-
self now that that
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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.