By Cecil Morris
My wife has given me a new drill, // a DeWalt 20 volt battery- // powered model with joyous yellow // highlights, the color of doing.
The Rumen is a collaboration between writers and poets from a variety of demographics and backgrounds. Like the guts of an ungulate, we want The Rumen to be a space for ideas and experiences to digest, ferment, and transform.
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Mollie lays the eggs; the male // brings food for weeks. // In a month, the first tiny beak // pecks out of its confinement.
Not content to build up life in piles // They came here to hack limestone
By Barry Fields
Lyra met Eric at La Patisserie, her favorite café but one they hadn’t been to as a couple. The owners, whom you could hear speaking French to each other, had modeled it on a Paris bistro, with pale yellow walls and large format black and white photographs of a dozen of the city’s famous monuments. On the wall, the Arc of Triumph towered over them.
By Kat Hausler
“Can she do that?” Pauli asked after ordering another round of drinks Viktor hoped would be their last.
Paste the blueprint onto any cylinder // & it becomes a continuum, a battle plan // wrapped in flypaper’s ad infinitum.
By Lola Bosa
My boyfriend likes to undress me in a nonsexual way, or at least that’s how it feels.
The charlatan bilked them // Out of what they’d said was sacred. // The lion's teeth specialize in cutting meat.
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