Blog by Hannah Frank
Somewhere in the tea bag is the tea leaf that she picked
from the bush under the tree which cast shade in the sun
and her tiny hands pulled it from the plant
and now it's in hot water
brimming on the cup the edge of which
is almost about to steam
There is no proper time to make a proper edit to this page of life No sentence unscathed which behooves itself to avoid run-on No gerund to ...