Poetry

Grapes

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I saw some grapes growing in a field.
No one was tending them
to be some rich man’s wine.
No one was tending them at all.

Faith

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for Bach Tong Image of a compass lost its north, its red arrow spinning with no resolve or force of feeling towards direction or…

Desert

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Just across the border from north Texas, my car broke, the land’s heat hovered above the defunct road I’d rolled it onto with the…