Jacob Edwards

Poem for Bats

there hangs the poet ripe before his time slighted in the moment adored when, fanged, he dies

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News from the Farm

Jill e-mailed me just yesterday: the weather’s dry; so, early starts for Marsh to irrigate— an icy play down by the creek in freezing cold and wet and dark to fetch the old machine. The oats are growing well, though, …

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Colosseums of the Future

i through time-lapse, rivers twist like worms to lure a catch, procured up-tide of futures brooked mouths open —look!— in lust-spawned fury, hooked intent by crook of dawn to leap ashore in writhing force, pursuing dusk’s endure and swim no …

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