06: Open - June 2021


Why must poetry be pretty? The language of gods, dripping from Apollo’s fingertips – whispers from the sea spray, metaphors in the dew off of morning grass and stanzas radiating off sunbeams Words to make critics swoon with veneration “Thalia, Melpomene, Erato, Euterpe – behold!” Fuck that. Fuck the gods. Poetry is nasty. Poetry is plunging a dirty needle into an arm so pierced that the rust punctures skin without interruption kissing a boy so…

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