Today's visual poem: another to file away into the loose canon formed by the strange medical condition that is ‘young, hot, and single in new york city,’ as put by an ex coworker. Symptoms: to be young and distraught. Cure: to clutch the unbearable lightness of being, buoyed by transient glows, anchored by depths unseen.

For the best reading experiences on these — take an extra minute and take it slow, reread a couple times, let the mind simmer. Poetry demands sincere attention.

A snack to prepare the palate for today:

To say homeboy, daydream, decanter, meadowland, rhythm.
To say anything.
    To listen to the sum of every silence.
    To give a name to the space full of promise.
    And then to fall silent.

—Yuri Herrera, Kingdom Cons

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