Arsène Hodali

web novels, poetry, prose.

  • War Dancers
  • poetry
  • prose

← my mom talks to the air but she doesn’t call herself a poet
quis custodiet ipsos custodes? →

we’re starving but, we must very eat slowly, ignore the rumble

this took four winters

do you melt, taste your poem
as little as i?

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← my mom talks to the air but she doesn’t call herself a poet
quis custodiet ipsos custodes? →

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