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From Kim Goldberg:

July 9, 2017

The author whose thirst cannot be slaked no matter how many times she plunges her seared face into the palm-lined oasis. The author who goes to bed but cannot sleep in the land where the sun never sets. The author whose pineal gland has been flattened and gut-splattered by an 18-wheeler ripping along a Sonoran desert highway. The author who has a waking dream about an author at her computer, an author writing a book, an author writing a book about people sickened by their computers, an author whose tongue is a burning emergency flare that ignites the sky.

– Closed Circuit, from Poetry is Dead Issue 15

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art by heather kai smith for poetry is dead

art by heather kai smith for poetry is dead

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