men mold breast like clay
Poetry 0

Men Mold Breast Like Clay
Breast look down when they’ve died.

Show not a man the church where clays pray, the soil where clays worship, the body where clays fast, the building where clays speak in tongues.

for the lives that failed nantygreens
Poetry 0

FOR THE LIVES THAT FAILED
Today,
Let us cry into the dusk, while watching our stinking selves
Stand unstirred beneath the feet of hills in ìdànrè
To find partial answers, to the hunger singing restless hymns
In our heat-burnt heads

a Story with No Name
Stories 6

A Story with No Name by Joy Chime
My ex-girlfriend once said, out of the blue, when we were still an album, that I kissed like her ex-boyfriend. Needless to say, I was puzzled. And curious, so I asked what she meant.

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