Poem of the Day: Bill Rasmovicz

  THE MOON’S HIND LEGS   The moon’s hind legs are invisible. Its bastard ear-boring cry is only fully heard by infants. Bright as the starchy pharmacist’s coat, its objective is to illuminate the puddled glass replacing someone’s stolen vehicle, the tuft of fur in the barbed wire. Some nights it shivers as though it…

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Poem of the Day: Carrie Oeding

  APOLOGY TO MEDITATION   The meditation teacher said he wants to leave you alone with me. There should be no third party between me and “existence.” The meditation teacher said I would soon understand the nature of the mind rather than fight with it. He winked at me then, a bit creepy. I’ll be…

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