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Ben Meyerson

On Difficulty Like flotsam that bulges in with a ragged tide your ribbon of breath buds burgeons then night stowed in its coves bundled in – cloth like cloth that contorts into tight spaces your ribbon of breath braided brought to bear on night so you stow me in its coves – fresh, livid livid like sea-burnt oak that tenses into your form the littered scent on your ribbon of breath salt faint ash tongue the coves of your speech broadened tongues like flotsam that bulges in with a ragged tide.

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Profile for John Sibley Williams

The Inflectionist Review: Issue 5  

The Inflectionist Review: Issue 5  

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