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Poems
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The Authentic Galleries
Begin again. Begin with the wound.
G.C. Waldrep
The Bahá’í School
It stood at the top of a steep hill that sloped all the way down to the Pisquataqua River, which even then I knew was tidal.
Lindsay Stuart Hill
The Barn
No one just Mary
Frannie Lindsay
The Barricade
The barricade measures two meters high and twelve meters wide
Dag T. Straumsvåg
THE BEAR IN THE WHEELCHAIR
The bedside window is cracked a little, for fresh air presumably, and a lopsided venetian blind bangs softly in a
Michael Van Walleghen
The Beautiful American Word Baby
Once, I wanted it growled low in the throat
Susan Aizenberg
The Beautiful Hand
Not a word.
Laura Kasischke
The Beginner
Doesn’t have a clue, sips whiskey in a train
Sigman Byrd
The Big Blow
After the snow-soused April gale I wandered
Sydney Lea
The Bird that Begins it
In the world-famous night which is already flinging away bits of dark but not
Jorie Graham
The Birthday Ceremony
Seventeen rooms of long maroon
Cynthia Cruz
The Birthdays of the Dead
It is an affront in their land
Charles O. Hartman
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