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State of the Body

In Poetry by Angelina Eimannsberger0 Comments

By C.S. Bhagya “Nevertheless it will be said that if the body is not a thing, it is a situation”                                                   – Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex   1. The leg, hirsute, always in the aspect of departure— twitches and bobs restlessly. Your legs, they want out, be somewhere you will not need to denote it, the body —what …

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Last Winter Man

In Current, Featured, Poetry by Angelina Eimannsberger

By Saronik Bosu Silliest among reasons why his death was my first unmaking, was that my grandfather was a gathered man. A man of sure things – his love: an arabesque on the tip of a nib he’d just cut for me a fresh cut nib in an everscreened world can pull that world to a stop, if only for …

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Spring: Central Park on a Wednesday

In Poetry by indulgencezine@gmail.com

By Matt Dischner Red breast, brown coat, pecking through the ground like an autumn leaf, covered in dirt, till startled flight — a loud tourist walks by a million lives pass through the corner of my eye

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Morningside Ave: Early January Afternoon

In Poetry, Verse by indulgence_old

By Matt Dischner   The birch, though stripped of bark, stands strong, its white trunk a testament to seasonal perseverance, a bright sentinel, stoic against cold, calamity, and schoolchildren who can’t resist the innate satisfaction of peeling paper off a tree.

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This was a different poem once

In Poetry, Verse by indulgence_old

By Saronik Bosu   This was a different poem once It was longer, for one.   And then it lost its first stanza on 2nd Ave, somewhere near that thrift shop with the gold coat that no one buys.   The verbs were a bother And in this grid city where land is perpendicular to itself verbs disappear at corners …

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“Hear the birds” & other haikus

In Poetry, Verse by indulgence_old

By Benjamin Philips   Hear the birds in the canopy, singing their songs of what is below.   Under the murky depths, I see the figures of the catfish kingdom.   Oh wind! I wonder Did you feel me as well when you breezed past just now?    

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“Who is the sun” & two other haikus

In Poetry, Verse by indulgence_old

By Benjamin Phillips   Who is the sun, that flowers should follow its arc across the heavens?   The lantern oil burns, attracting moths to watch the flames abiding waltz. Hearing streams babble on and on; no wonder the rocks never speak up. Photo credit: s268.photobucket.com /user/annieshreeve/media/purple-sun-flowers-sky.jpg.html#