Among the Ruins: Two Poems by Damon Hubbs ↗︎
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Destruction is the cause of coming into being. A taxi in Africa waits in the red hills.
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Destruction is the cause of coming into being. A taxi in Africa waits in the red hills.
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I can tell what a war tastes like. Not until I let hot bullets burn my tongue till I lose my taste for life’s goodies. Not until I’m skinned of yesterday's grace.
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I lit a cigarette and checked my phone. America had attacked Iran.
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He plays a guitar, hoarsely singing for small coins scattered.
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I used to eat baloney sandwiches scraped with mayonnaise by sewer-pipes thinking of Pennywise and now have an advanced degree that has harmed my employment potential.
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I have become an atom scattered somewhere in China. I give the system no service, but the system has also stripped me of the ability to resist.
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Can’t We Sell It to Someone Cultured?
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I see my own deep feelings plain as a blank sheet of paper.
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I told you not to come in here. I told you not to touch anything.
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In a psychiatric ward in Guangzhou, ordinary moments take on an unexpected intensity. Xi Nan's seven poems move between fear and humour, solitude and human connection, tracing a restless desire to write, to love, and to remain alive.
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