human
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dead prayers to a man god
the night is the worst empty arms and outdoors is blue-black, like a bruise Like the bruise you gave me when you slammed the door in my face your empty promises of return reverberating like so much empty clanging of bells The bells, the bells of church ringing a God I do not know who… Continue reading
About Me
poet, diarist, writer, teacher, woman, fragile, strong, northern life is my domicile, my barbaric yawp exudes against the tide
Diary of an American 