on hills by park pathwaysand beds of fresh petal,we collapse on our elbowsand tightly scrubbed grass.twist off ourbackpacks, wet with the weightof the sun and the weightof our warm cansof […]
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The Metaworker Literary Magazine
Where great stories are forged
on hills by park pathwaysand beds of fresh petal,we collapse on our elbowsand tightly scrubbed grass.twist off ourbackpacks, wet with the weightof the sun and the weightof our warm cansof […]
Read moreI piss. it feels okand then after I walkthrough the house going backto the kitchen.and you are not herein any of the house,or at least you are notin my parts […]
Read moresomewhere up here you might bite the whole horizon. love pours in like an emptied sack of apples. tastes fresh like apples, and smells like apples too. I am on […]
Read morefor a while there I was worried I had cancer. I even joined a gym though I don’t know why I thought it would help. didn’t quit smoking or drinking, […]
Read morethe click of the corkscrew against the bottle and art tore up and destroyed with matches. I see poetry now full of people wearing shirts and very tight jeans to […]
Read morethe snow melts grey into late december and mean music is making a sudden comeback in the bars saxophones and tatters of rattled live drumming after that santa stuff’s been […]
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