Among the things I dislike so much about our national political discourse, in the news as well as on social media (maybe
After slaughtering the moon and stars
The storm stills.
As though we, the living, are locks.
Or doors with locks.
this is not what you thought you’d be reading
and honestly it’s not what I thought I would be writing either
like scraps of paper
folding themselves into birds
ocean keeps crashing at my house whenever waves are too small to couch surf
black skin, white acts
blackface to carry black caskets
by Grant Clauser Sometimes we write poems to put words and names to things there aren’t words for. Poems are often a
by Grant Clauser I was watching a movie that took place where snowfalls are measured in feet and the world goes dark
…Aleppo now runs
a West Philly school hall
an open channel of enameled stone, a gateway to deliverance
