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Poems
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An Intimate Moment of Protestant Despair Witnessed on the Four O’ Clock Train
He put down his Wall Street Journal,
Tony Hoagland
Borges at Dolphin Books: New Orleans, 1982
He props his cane between Maps & True Crime,
David Wojahn
The House of Wittgenstein
He never saw the malls of Petaluma, nor met the amazing cricketeer Montezuma. He never heard a laugh track. We’d
Ira Sadoff
New Year’s Day Truce, 1999
He looked old and tired
Frances Richey
A Date With an Undertaker
He liked to bathe, dress,
Elaine Equi
The Little Engine
He is not an engine that could. Busted up, broken and backward, call him “fucked-up,”
Rebecca Cook
The Podium
He is bilious, potty-mouthed, at once puffy and rachitic. He sways, eyes red and rheumy as September strawberries.
D. Nurkse
“Bird or Old Man” translated from Bulgarian by Holly Karapetkova
He arrived with a bag full of fog.
Dostena Anguelova
Indelible
Having worn myself out naming Bewick's wren,
Michael Broek
VISITORS
Having just arrived, we are walked down a moonless
Jennifer O’Grady
A Brief Portfolio
have heard through some trembling of their web
Patrick Donnelly
Two poems by Katja Gorečan (from The Sufferings of Young Hana /Trpljenje mlade Hane) translated from Slovenian by Martha Kosir
hana likes to sit on the balcony when it rains.
Katja Gorečan
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