• Thu. May 30th, 2024

Leah Levy

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  • Poem: Burning the Books

Poem: Burning the Books

No pictures or conversation. Not a second of wonder down the bookshelves. They hauled the library to elsewhere. No volumes ushering in the joyous. Not a breakthrough of character standing…

Poem: LET THIS BE MY LAST

Picture us palm-first – we are only the poems we last penned. Dropping sands of sound that fixed to these pages before. Pararhyme with arrhythmia in timing, to write is…

Poem: From Calton Hill

In the nexus city Air-filled, it mimics you The grey sky only moves when you do Each take slow steps Crossing damp cobble stonework Green-brown hill ground dimpling the looser…