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This poet has consented to write in the twenty below zero cold. In the 110° heat. Without running water. Without hot food. In pain. Without respect. Surrounded by hatred. Without pay.

But she no longer consents to write without sleep.

This post will continue daily on the poet’s home site until either her perpetrator is brought to justice, or he succeeded in hospitalizing, imprisoning, or killing her altogether.

She is an American poet of excellence.

There’s no such thing.

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