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Poems
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FOR MATS AND LAILA
The Date Line lies motionless between Samoa and Tonga, but the Midnight Line glides across the ocean and islands and rooftops of huts.
Tomas Tranströmer
For D, reading poems
When I was a kid, only a flu could buy me
Jane Zwart
For a Theophoric Figure
Strange how first things dawn on us
Peter Cole
Football & the English Language
My first year as high school coach, five points
Ron Smith
Food of Love & Thing-in-Itself
If the vamp and rub of planets,
Nancy Naomi Carlson
FOLDED WING | Pig, a sequel | Ode to Solitude
The wrist and the leg are the test: flexible,
Margo Berdeshevsky
Fold
I pet my pet, I fear my fear, I torment my torment, I wear my wear, I tear my tear, I
Charles Bernstein
Fogetting Names
Inevitable, and not
Mary Jo Salter
Focus
The point at which
Rae Armantrout
Flowers in a Vase
The dahlias' unopened buds poke like periscopes above their clownish mass
Don Bogen
Flour, Eggs, Milk, Baking Powder, Salt and God
O Best Beloved, tell me, if you know, why—
Suzanne Lummis
Florida
The prettiest state,
Cathleen Calbert
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