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Poems
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Archive
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The Poets and Translators Speak
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Derealization
I left my body in Barnes & Noble
Julie Heming
Dentist, Mexico, 1959
The room was big, not small.
Alberto Rios
Delilah Miklave
You think that you know baptism
Christine Byrne
DELIBERATE AS THINKING IS THE RAIN
Stepping off the door lintel, down onto the grass as the day closed around us, grass, rising up inside its own squared
Elena Karina Byrne
Delete the Bird
My will was just a constant cuckoo
Elizabeth Metzger
Deciduous (Evening in a Polar Vortex)
Blanket, you hear, means to cover,
Ella Flores
December, First Frost
A small green house sits beside the highway, fading into maple shade.
David Bottoms
December, First Frost
A small green house sits beside the highway, darkening in maple shade.
David Bottoms
Deceiving the Gods
The old Jews rarely admitted good fortune.
Ellen Bass
Debris
I love those spirits
Lola Ridge
Death of God
Bituminous was so soft, so much like dust
Gerald Stern
DEATH MARCH
Carry her the way it has to hurt:
Terese Svoboda
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