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See how the firmament loosens
like a clod of earth how the horizon
crackles like two skulls wrapped in velvet
surely the shadow of a speaker
lying supine in snow or
you lying supine in sheets wrapped in the clear
stars of an oil night the memory
of speech like the mirror in shallow
water which memory
the edge of your being
being the edge of my language
surely eyes glazed over and loosened
from the filament
which flight this one swap of syllable
o shadow being
o painted picture glowing
like a kumquat
how much the image of contrast like when Polonius
that royal pear
cried through the curtain and you sliced
him in half to expose five seeds
arranged like a star
the night’s reflection glistening off
his skin the shadows of my legs
walking along the wall
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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.