You have stumbled upon a collection of poems or prose poems, a compilation of real or imaginary conversations, a bunch of digressive monologues of the mind. All that and more. Composed during the Age of Coronavirus pandemic, these released-from-quarantine offerings mimic how we talk, to others and ourselves. Snippets, shifts, interruptions, fractures, fragments, meanderings. Rarely do we speak in perfectly parsed sentences. Read in any order, in whole...
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