Poetry by A.J. Huffman ⊕

How calm you stay

in bed

without pants.

This room is living—

absorbing me,

you.  Needing the wound

we refuse

to talk.

Spasm instead

behind shallow curtains.

The floor is learning

to be.

The ceiling chooses

not to be.

I fold

into a cloud,

hover like a drawbridge.

You anchor darkness,


with a purr.

A.J. Huffman has published thirteen full-length poetry collections, fourteen solo poetry chapbooks and one joint poetry chapbook through various small presses.  Her most recent releases, Degeneration (Pink Girl Ink), A Bizarre Burning of Bees (Transcendent Zero Press), and Familiar Illusions (Flutter Press) are now available from their respective publishers.  She is a five-time Pushcart Prize nominee, a two-time Best of Net nominee, and has published over 2500 poems in various national and international journals, including Labletter, The James Dickey Review, The Bookends Review, Bone Orchard, Corvus Review, EgoPHobia, and Kritya.  She is also the founding editor of Kind of a Hurricane Press.  www.kindofahurricanepress.com.

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Global artists and writers dedicated to sharing creativity around the world.

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