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Poems
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Bruised Fruit
These sun-poached pages like an old address book
W.S. Di Piero
(Blessed Are) They Who Preserve
These glass jars are houses for little Human Acts.
Danielle Blau
Three Poems
These dead again and again
Simon Perchik
The Palm Reader & Fire Horse
These blithe lines
Ekiwah Adler-Belendez
When My Son Is Dead 14 Years
These are the years I bargain with God.
Alexis Rhone Fancher
Pandemic Fugue
These are the skies of my childhood
Jody Bolz
Amusements
These are the long days that fill with night
Ernest Hilbert
Cataclysmic Paternity
There’s the you at birth and the you that’s taught and the you you concocted.
Daniel Meltz
Blown Away
There’s something stuck in my throat, it might be the red-eyed
Maya Janson
Good Stuff | A Love Letter from Larkin
There’s some good stuff on Youtube, someone writes.
D.M. Thomas
Poem by Zuzanna Ginczanka (1917-1945) translated from Polish by Alex Braslavsky
There’s now a so-so year for you: 1933—
Zuzanna Ginczanka
[from the volume 4 A.M. Domestic Cantos, Casa de editură Max Blecher, 2015]
There will be people and they will push the world further.
Radu Vancu
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