The Arrest, in all its surreal narrative trappings, supercars, and Hollywood theatrics, wants to know if words can save us in a dystopia.
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The 45th President of the United States and I went to Baskin Robbins. I got a mint chocolate chip milkshake and the 45th President got a hot fudge sundae with chocolate ice
The poems I prefer to read are by writers who have been dead for at least fifty years. The poems remain venomous, but the writers don’t care if you put them in