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From the kitchens where the gas is kept / beloved are the blues shining my shoulder / old potholes . . .
When you leave the museum
of contemporary art, opening
the doors to midday, you may need
a few minutes to reset context:
the. . .
When walking hope is a swagger
When sleeping hope is a lullaby
When breathing hope is oxygen
When drunk hope. . .
Invisibility and Platonic justice in the #MeToo era
Many “independent” contractors are anything but.
A false dichotomy haunts Democratic immigration reform.