Abigail Cottam
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                                                                    How we go round in earth’s spinning   Perhaps it is something religious; profound When we wind through streets as one, …

Persona

  Some days begin in darkness Before carbon flares in light Slow-wakening of illumination; To reside between its flickers Or exposed in spectral sight.   Pinned upon the table Limbs wrigglin…

11 Little Turnstile

I am waiting For what I am not sure The restlessness of an eve of new beginnings As much as for friends to walk through this door In neon red the street is lit As if trying to shine a spotlight on som…

On Dylan and Decay

A personal exploration on identity and Bob Dylan — It started with a feeling, a feeling I did not understand and could not articulate. All I knew was that I must understand the urgency of it, tr…