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A Prayer for the Unflummoxed Beaver
“a prayer for the cedar balls/ that break when you touch them and stain/ your fingers yellow, that release from their tiny bellies/ the smell of old churches…” By Kei Miller.
Read More“a prayer for the cedar balls/ that break when you touch them and stain/ your fingers yellow, that release from their tiny bellies/ the smell of old churches…” By Kei Miller.
Read More“…maybe this is the problem with empires: how they have forced us to live in a world lacking in mermaids…” Weekend poem, by Kei Miller.
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