t.n.s. is a self-defined bad poet. Their poems are like if you left a heap of uncooked meat on a church pew to spoil and eat later. They can be found in Bloodletter Magazine, Ghost City Press, God’s Cruel Joke, and elsewhere. Along with being on Bloodletter’s editorial team, t.n.s. feeds their soul by reading about exorcisms, teaching poetry, hanging around their friendly neighborhood cat, and talking about Palestine.
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