The Anti-Literary Magazine
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Poetry
on mice and earthquakes
To be truthful, I already knew about the mice.
I had another mental breakdown in the bubble tea store
we’re all on this sinking ship together
on friend dates with the devil
who wouldn’t want to be a curator of sin
open letter to you (there)
death is an industry / no different than oil,
Gordon's Testimonial
If it hadn't been for that, who knows?
the co-op parking lot
we came here years ago, buying pomegranate juice in a glass bottle
two worlds right next door to each other
almost crashed passing the township marker going north.