FastPass; Poemas selfie

By colin cole FastPass With my privileged passport I pass borders forge forward through the gates that white men out or in Keep some out Sum in. Escriben las leyes, sus leyes, Con la misma tinta de 1848…1898…1942…1954…1994……. I feel it in my bowels,Brownell Jr. returning, apuntando point blank. Pero paso, yo, desapercibido, The badges…

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Back Alley Cocaine; At the Parking Garage on Burlington

By Nick Bollard Back Alley Cocaine it’s October, getting dark, you’re standing on your two feet in that glistening alley and a shivering school teacher wincing her face pulls out an eight ball and samples you a toot off of the corner of her Sears gift card; you want that ball but have just enough…

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