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from Autotolerance by Sam Rye

dawn labile

my existence


too bright territorial

magpie outside intruder heart you are

caller no. 3 there is

a style to this casualty

of practice needles in

a parking lot sudden the missing

body describe them for me


response police

bodies a blocked

route duty as divisible

as water only kind

ness to come apart

school children

kiss mural tall

barrel a sky that tips them off



cortisol I walkback

pupils in the marina

moss fish a dangerous

green I write below the weather

what month is this you could give to me

through the talking hole


a breeze

this editor false yet

no blame I know

a day rocked through

with gifts my ginger

beer calls a chattering

stars remember limb

analogy on a4 get it

down how you hide among us


they say it’s the month

what is eating you my hair

combing the wind through a deathbed

tongue the research confirms you

count the stones in us we enter

tain a tenderness one you

come back from


Sam Rye is a poet and editor originally from the North East of England and now based in Manchester. He holds a MA in Modern and Contemporary Literature from the University of Manchester. His poetry has been published in Propel Magazine, Butcher's Dog, and The Shore, among others.

These poems were selected by Anthropocene Guest Editor Tom Branfoot.


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