Poetry by Zoë Hitzig
I am not us yet but / soon there will be no place left to go
Read MoreI am not us yet but / soon there will be no place left to go
Read MoreA long-suppressed murderousness / is coming to, a new little perfume in the air
Read Moreour analogy our utterance / like a core of blood / or whatever
Read Morewhen i was little i said i wanted to grow up to be a cowboy and they told me i can’t / i’m not american
Read MoreDriving back, it was so dark / it was like driving into death — / that feeling that I might dissolve
Read MoreWe didn’t know how much we would miss us
Read MoreBirds don’t bury their dead in feathers of clouds. Dead birds don’t drop from the sky.
Read MoreYou realize this isn’t a river—a wet parking lot with faded lines goes under a / building & some long grass like reeds where the walls meet.
Read Moresquare garnet faded dream mount / as a tree could unfold in waves
Read Moreutterly lifelike threads! so such! utterly! utterly!
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