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      April 30, 2021Clarice HareGo Get ’Er

      Butt-chugging smoke-licking lovebite-
      begging ex-lover—
      Not taking no no’s, but you take me
      for some dum-dum magic skull cookie?
      X-tra spicy like you treat me—
      Say I should’ve let you beat me—
      Two pounds of mud on my face
      for you—doctor pimple popper
      wouldn’t have a clue—so get
      down on your knees and lift your
      squick ass up, eighty-two
      times two
      Painting my skin cross
      the asphalt (your fault)—
      painting my juice cross
      the face of your pit boss—
      Spit and swear no more romances
      with oil-gloved big-boned fist-letches,
      cause never was any last one of them
      better—
      Fat-cell ice tea, but
      they want a flambé—yay,
      you did it but you’re burned
      inside—meanwhile your outsides’ve
      never ever been
      wetter
      Like my daddy said
      when I failed second grade: “Well,
      it’s not exactly like we ever
      thought she’d be
      a go-getter.”

      from #71 - Spring 2021

      Clarice Hare

      “In my lifetime, I have been diagnosed with depression, obsessive-compulsive disorder, bipolar disorder, Asperger syndrome, and attention deficit disorder/inattentive type, none of which I feel is exact or comprehensive. The one thing ten out of ten doctors agree on is that I’m not neurotypical. My differences have both spurred me to make many decisions that a ‘sane’ person would probably not have made, thus leading me into adventures that—once survived—have proven fertile ground for my writing, and provided the unique lens through which I view both weird and mundane experiences. This is why I choose to leave the big topics and current events to other poets and instead write the poems that only I can write. Of course, writing at all is only possible now that I’ve reached the point where I’d sincerely and wholeheartedly rather be the way I am than not. I’m grateful for the handful of other people in my life who’ve felt the same.”