Bare Arms

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Words

Self-Deceit #3

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I know that room inside youwhere you go to hide when you’re scared and don’t want to be seen. Where your back is turned away, eyes lowered if they’re...

walking through

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i’ll walk into your forests and in the shadows of your mind i’ll walk along these winding paths to see what i might find i’ll walk...

An Ode to the Sounds of Blackness

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When Ray Charles asked, “Come live with me and won’t you be my love?” Gladys said she’s leaving to be with him On a midnight train...

Arisen

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                            Dawn hesitated,                  Behind the clouds                           Clawing, at the                Dark summit scrapple                           And brought to her                Were age quivers                           Of bird shadows                From sun flights. Kristen Marshall is a founding member of Boulder...

Dirty Work

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Eleanor’s childhood was still standing at the corner of Maple and Eighth. It had always been, seemed like it always would be. When she...

Ode to coronavirus

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As I lay here watching the world crumble from my phone screen, I look outside my window. The trees stand as per usual.This time covered in...

Two Minutes to Midnight

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Under the super-blue-blood-moon      the truth eclipsed, Two minutes left to love you ( time enough, perhaps, to contemplate  ,  why .. Just footsteps in to...

We are the Forgotten

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We are the forgotten The people no one will remember The ones people will forget Not exceptional just ordinary We are the majority We will be remembered as a...

Small Window

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I discern a tiny space in one of fifteen minutes; two days later, I deduce which one, approach it and peer inside (can’t tell whether it’s bright or dark), hoping to glimpse a poem — or the closest edge of one. Jethro McClellan was born in Boston, moved out West before he turned five, and has called Boulder home for most of his life....

Dada Def Poems

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What is a Nihilist An ink blot and a reminder levied on ships that anchor in a port. A trial condemningthe leader of a dramatic chorus. It...

A Body Built of Folk and Lore

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Deep in the hills and between the streams. Where fables are passed and the willows weep. Where wind flows through the tree tops. And the children grow...

You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar

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Grandma said, “you catch more fliesWith honey than with vinegar”I wondered...She herself was vinegarShe never made sweet thingsOr said sweet wordsWas she afraid of...