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The Night Was Born
This night was born in an old and dust-filled pantry, and yesterday’s – in the
Alexander Ulanov
The Night Dancers
Praise the shadows that slither up candlelit walls
Grace Schulman
The Next Life and Windpowered
Sea fog drifting through the pines—
J.P. Dancing Bear
The NewMath and Nor Easter
There may still be time to find the cosine of x. Under an à la mode
Partridge Boswell
The New Odyssey Concordance
This is not the Odyssey
Beatriu Delaveda
The Neighbor’s War and Walking Backwards
Through my kitchen window I can watch
Maura Stanton
The Names
My student Natasha, who is Greek but is now living in Turkey,
David Kirby
The Myth of the Eternal Return
The river sinks beneath our love
Laurie Lamon
The Mystery
The mystery of our time
Alicia Ostriker
The Museum of Mortal Sins | Soul
We stood up to our waists in the icy water
Anzhelina Polonskaya
The Muse Writes Luis Jorge Borges A Letter On His 86th Birthday
The night has entered your eyes
Chard deNiord
The Movie My Murderer Makes
My murderer sits in row F, seat 3, just behind my wife and me, in row E, seats 3 and 4.
Chris Shipman
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