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John Leavitt is a writer and artist. He lives in New York City.
when his fork clinks against the breakfast plate,
my day is lit by a covetous rage, a fist swollen with
Back into the body all the lightning goes
back into the body. Up through the crown
of the skull and round again like the Whip-It. . .
/ guards falling asleep
/ a. . .
A report from the front in Brazil's current war over politics and culture.
I got screaming drunk at the KGB Spy Museum the other night. . . .
What Paul Manafort’s light sentence reveals about our two-tiered justice system.