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There is no word in English for the circle
left on a table from a cold glass,
or for the difference in flavor
between fresh. . .
my man was committed
to an asylum as a child
wild thing fungal
thought. . .
Less for the murders than the smug face remorseless smirking on the screen
Your sparkling utopia is just dumb dust if non-carbon energy infrastructure is not a central pillar of your program.
I lined up at MOMA for a close-up view of how the brutal business of global garment-making was to be cleaned up for aesthetic presentation.
How do you go from witty reviews about Hegel and Kierkegaard to recommending a book by The Veritas Project’s James O’Keefe?