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heaven should have as much blood beloved block after block we walk around
my neck a cut ruby a whole drop a hundred years you said the ponies
were blue I said under the skin you said under the sky last night I dreamt of swimming
first on my belly then on my back today was warmer rain if he loved his body he loved
the body pigmented in response block after block in the field no windows
no audience involvement nothing abandoned to enter no iron bar beloved
by the body chained the mayfly nymphs have no mouth I said you said like an egg
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But I do miss the hymns, / the small, hard apples with their dimpled skin. I do miss / things.
The vast hinterlands of the Global South’s cities are generating new solidarities and ideas of what counts as a life worth living.
Protests in China are shining a light not only on the country’s draconian population management but restrictions on workers everywhere.