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Ron
A monarch so orange the color is sacred. Burnt orange bellows, black panes. Fractals of breath that are wings. I try to breathe like that. But mine is hidden, unconscious. The monarch's, exposed, precious. Orange.... More »
Ron
My neighbor, Margie, probably an octogenarian, reads three or four progressive magazines, Mother Jones, The Progressive,The Nation, and Z Magazine. She's sharp as a tack, sharp enough to say, "I have a good memory, just... More »
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