Tanya Rakh was born on the outskirts of time and space in a cardboard box. After extensive planet-hopping, she currently makes her home near Houston, Texas where she writes poetry, surrealist prose, and cross-genre amalgamations. Her writing has appeared in numerous journals including The Gasconade Review, Redshift 4, Literary Orphans, Fearless, Yes, Poetry, and The Rye Whiskey Review. Tanya is the author of two books: Hydrogen Sofi and Wildflower Hell, new editions of both available from Posthuman Poetry & Prose.
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Sausages By Bruce Morton
We are all sausages In our skin linked together. Blood, bone, meat put Through the daily grind. Some red, some brown, Some white, each flavo...
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"Hey, is your mag open to submissions?" I run a daily unless the voices tell me not to because they want to party. "The mag i...
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Driving through New England, I notice small towns all have a cemetery crowded with tombstones, weathered and leaning into each other like ...
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Two Jacksons or Four sawbucks Up front—$40. No credit cards, no I.D.; Beyond, beneath, Battered neon lights The Blues Hotel Weathered time’s...
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