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|Story||Windows||Rosa Cruz||19||1 day 20 hours ago|
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|Story||Fair Maids of February||Rosa Cruz||28||1 week 3 days ago|
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|Collection||Before the Last Petals Fall||Rosa Cruz||0||1 month 3 days ago|
April 2020 Window One. Rain streaks make it hard for me to see, so I grab the binocs and catch a glimpse of Amelia Jones’ bright red overcoat as she...
[An experimental poem from me this time.] dawn coughs light streaks the headache skies too early back to sleep today the milk-sour mother of tomorrow...
Necks arched like swans, their flickering leaves scull the frost-fringed moss, last year’s rain-gnawed leaves where the bright beaks of blackbirds...
For the child I never had I would give you: the honeydrip of low sun on the horizon; a cold that sugar-coats mountain tops, collides cells and atoms...