Disjointed is a rhythm. I dance it here, in words on the page. Heartbeat, blood pulsing – this is a song that affirms life after loss — Lasara Firefox Allen
These are the poems I dream on, the poems I haven’t written yet, and never will. They are neither joy nor disdain, but the unnamed in-between; the bipolar, the broken, the potentially healed — Robert Allen
The words here are bone and dirt. They are a heartbeat. They are breath. They are the parts leftover, forgotten, turned to dust and reborn into something that aches. –Nico Gamache Kocol
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