Darien Cavanaugh

Editor back-issues, poetry

Ecosystems The morning was cold and fat with leftoverChinese food plastic forked on a bus stop benchwhile a cat hissed at another cat for passing by. It was the sun who staggered up the alleybetween gray walls to let a brown bird slipthrough the gray no one would call a sky and landin a busted-ass tree that forgot the weight of leavesas…

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