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Poems
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Archive
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The Poets and Translators Speak
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Amalgam
Mostly, what I didn’t know didn’t hurt me
Rebecca Foust
Poems for the Absent One
Mother death,
Claire Malroux
Woman, Man, Tepoztlán
Mother, today I met a man.
Kristina Andersson Bicher
“Flüchtige monde” / “fugitive moons” translated from the German by Joscha Klueppel
mountains recall their flock of birds. the dear birds,
Yevgeniy Breyger
SUNDAYS | ALONE
Mournful Sunday afternoons in winter,
Georges Rodenbach
MR. DARCY TALKS
Mr. Darcy talks to the same woman
Victoria Chang
Three Poems
Mud to your waist. Beside you, six men probing with broken
Lis Sanchez
A Controlled Substance
My brother is late again, somehow the glass
Brendan Constantine
Elegy & Brooklyn, 1957
My brother told me we would join the Wide
Floyd Skloot
My Courbet, by Jonathan Galassi
My Courbet
Jonathan Galassi
One of a Series
My daughter sees the sky from another angle, slate-blue reflected in a lake called living.
Joni Wallace
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
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