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Issue #37 July 2014
Poem of the Quotidian
Night falls so swiftly in this part of town
Ruy Belo
Birds in the Night
The French government, or was it the English government,
Luis Cernuda
RODIN, “Hand with Small Torso, Bronze” | Rodin’s “The Cathedral”
In Paris you can see his drawer of hands.
Peter Cooley
CALLING BACK | CHARITY
My daughter sings in snow falling through the scent of red oak or ash, some of the flakes large enough to contain passages from Emily Dickinson’s letters.
Steven Cramer
Over
Suddenly, it’s over, and I hear!
Laura Kasischke
Things I’ve Discovered in Hong Kong
Semantics: clue that Trappist Dairy Milk Drink is not milk—had I read the label—
Glenn Mott
Fret Not
Opening the door for the first time since
Molly Peacock
End in Itself
All veins point to a heart in depleted rivers, in branches,
Allan Peterson
Better Than Heaven
So many set asides, you say, intemperate
Charlie Smith
True West
We return by foot from pre-plantation oaks,
Daniel Tobin
SOUL-DARK second version | SLEEP second version
At the forest’s edge: a dark deer. A hush.
Georg Trakl
Essay: Domestic
Brassiere
Chelsea Wagenaar
James Richardson: Vectors
Over the past weeks I’ve returned to James Richardson’s VECTORS 4.1: A FEW THOUGHTS IN THE DARK and…
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