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Teargas at the Tijuana Border
by Noah Christiansen
…the lumens
of grace that linger at the softened edge of imperfect bodies
The stalking weather changes to greet
the weight of stolen blankets.
Teargas at the Tijuana Border
by Noah Christiansen
…the lumens
of grace that linger at the softened edge of imperfect bodies
The stalking weather changes to greet
the weight of stolen blankets.
ORBS by Manzi
Occasionally, I see things that remind me we live in a hidden universe as well as one that is seen by all. The earth, by any measure, is alive in more ways than I could ever imagine. Fireballs teasingly rolling across a southern country road remind me that some things are simply revealed.
They appear like the common tumbleweed in every way, but for the elegance of their delicate and fiery plumes.
I was pleasantly surprised one early evening to see their existence. I’d heard about them, but upon seeing them, I felt a gentle reverence watching how gracefully they tumbled across the road, each one dropping precisely into the space where the one before it vanished.
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