Poems from ren_hunt

Today, I walked through an antique mall. Aisles included angels and Tiffany-designed lamps while others had umbrellas, spindles, spiders...
Three hundred. Three three hundred words. Four hundred. Five hundred. Three. Four Five.Three hundred words to write is it enough of Stein...
Mi abuela walked down the streets of her childhood: her memories were made here. But, there were no elegant mansions, no beveled windows...
I saw the reserved Swiss of my neighborhood delighted by music, enjoying controversial play, tapping themselves through Basel streets at...
We walk through the valley of the shadow of death . Drowning, down-hearted, defeated. Hope. Hope? None—hope. Gott, wo bist du? Du bist...

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