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Inter Alia

Saying yes to sex parties is so ’68.

We masturbate the street to seize the beach.

Whatever happened to modernism

the recuperation of genitalia, farce and tragedy        inter alia.

You love the types of Robert Granjon lettercut with weeping.

Our last embrace in Hendaye


is water, always water

a spontaneous overflow of scythes and sickles.

We live quickly

because there’s design in everything.

It’s true the sun looks ill without its ringlets.

I read The Aspern Papers at Hôtel Valencia


and steal death from an aging poet,

eat an orange from a fruit bowl quivering in late period light.

The next morning

on the beach, children bang

with toy rebellion, inter alia        my euros are missing.

Adjusting the kerning helps my anatomy sing.

Damon Hubbs writes poems about Thulsa Doom, Italo disco & girls who cry at airports. He’s the author of three chapbooks (most recently Charm of Difference, from Back Room Poetry). His latest work appears/is forthcoming in The Argyle Literary Magazine, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Bullshit Lit, Misery Tourism, BRUISER, & elsewhere. twitter @damon_hubbs

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