Poems

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  • Poem by Zuzanna Ginczanka (1917-1945) translated from Polish by Alex Braslavsky

    There’s now a so-so year for you: 1933—
  • Black Apples & Landing

    Dropping to the red earth, these, the night bearing
  • Could Someone Please Check on My Mother?

    When the young man thought about the history of poetry
  • Let Me Hear You

    I am the disappearing point of an inverted pyramid
  • Alien Valley

    I’m sick of prodding the infinite,
  • You Don’t Travel Light, Life

    is a cumbersome business.
  • While Another Dove Nude into the Breakers

    One talked with a talisman
  • Chocolate on my new pajamas

    Spun from a hundred cocoons
  • So What

    My mind’s a ringing phone
  • First Communion, forty-two and the unnamed

    I shall sit here, on this bench,
  • The Only One

    In the stories of old there were always three.
  • The Podium

    He is bilious, potty-mouthed, at once puffy and rachitic. He sways, eyes red and rheumy as September strawberries.