Start FamilyStrange thing.To make another person,With another person.Strange thing.To be half of one personAnd half of another —So that it might seem,All the good that lives in youIs a breathing monument of them.And all that feelsWrongIs an accident of natural dangersLike the graze on your pillow palmsWhen youTrippedAnd fell,Five years old.Strange thing.To have a slice of yourselfWalking up your stairsAnd through your kitchenLike a most obliviousHome invasion.The only risk is thatThey gain anUnderstandingLike thisOne.
— Frank Baring
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By Kiera Baird who makes the spark, the rock or the stick? the wood that’s fragile with texture, soft with jagged ends, weak with pointed pricks or the solid, sound, smooth surface of the cold a
By Marvin Cho Tethered on marble steps firm under a city gathered by the Bard’s song and choral wail to tears and awe moved the City enamoured. And on the distant stage swooning bacchants sing wineson
By Kate Sibery I stacked my books on the sill but every time there was wind they fell over and every time it rained they got wet. So I moved the books to the floor but they got stepped on instead of