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Poems
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Early Elegy: Telephone Booth | Early Elegy: Cursive
Its remains: a plexiglass crypt robbed
Claudia Emerson
From “The Last Letter of My Body”, translated from Russian by Anne O. Fisher
it’s winter here: the winter rains come, the roses bloom
Alex Averbuch
Letter to My Almost Former House
It’s true, I’m getting ready to leave you.
Theresa Burns
Across the Wide Missouri
It’s toward the end of the season.
Brian Swann
Across the Wide Missouri
It’s toward the end of the season
Brian Swann
February Elegy with Tulips on a Glass Table
It’s the yellow dust inside the tulips.
Alison Jarvis
LIFE ON ENCELADUS
It’s snowing all the time at the south pole of Enceladus
Joyce Peseroff
Owls Was The Most Likely Explanation
It’s pretty wild to think how long ago
Jeffrey Gustavson
Stonesuck
It’s of course tempting
Mark Everett Wittmer
Sign Language I & II translated by Kareem Abu-Zeid
It’s not that I
Olivia Elias
A Gaze Hound That Hunteth by the Eye
It’s not criminal: it isn’t sodomy
V. Penelope Pelizzon
Fireworks or Gunfire?
It’s just somebody sighting his gun—
Chase Twichell
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