Wednesday, February 8, 2012

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Bunker

POEM

Grappling with heritage and how to “release these poems that cannot save us.”

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Elegy for a Tutor

ESSAY

The boy grins now, the girl looks scared. This might be the living room or the dining room. There’s not much dining or living in it, this is the first time Fabiola and I are not alone.

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