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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Improvisations - little more than // preludes as inclined by other options // and expression as to what will happen
By Jessie Brown
Mossed path through rhododendrons tall as trees // and here come the hens, burnished legs slow-stepping // eight, nine, ten copper bodies like Aladdin’s lamps
By Mingran Cao
Step one: Disable Lunar Rhythms using Greenwich Mean Timestamps
By Zack Carson
The interior of electricity: // held stable in its grip, made pure at long // last. This is where man should surrender, // inside arc flash.
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.
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.
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