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Poems
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Archive
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The Poets and Translators Speak
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The dream and Useless is as useless doesn’t
For awhile I had a drawer full of electronic stuff,
Bob Hicok
Heard in Claesz
Decanting like the lees
Hoyt Rogers
A Brief Portfolio
“What is truth?” Pilate asked. Before Jesus could answer Pilate was on his way out the door.
Jeffrey Skinner
The Injured Future
Far left cluster the listeners, their heads lifted toward the speaker.
Terese Svoboda
Three Dances | Early Warning System
In North Carolina
Amit Majmudar
The Window & On Turning 79
I check the den window a few times each day
C. G. Hanzlicek
A Demitasse of Extinction
So funny how that uncanny, unfunny man sought you out on a rainy day in Istanbul—you were in earshot of the bazaar and smoking a hookah, and, of course, it was Ramadan.
Marc Vincenz
AFTER THUNDERSTORMS IN OKLAHOMA
The sky becomes sickly,
Hala Alyan
Hyphen
Blue-black on my inked page,
Joan Larkin
A Brief Portfolio
I don’t know what the crows were arguing over
Jane Hirshfield
Grand Marais Estuary, in Fog (after the painting by Stanley Krohmer)
Color of ice, or heaps of snow, gray-blue, slate.
Patricia Clark
Promiscuous and Thanking My Breasts
Promiscuous is what my mother
Kim Dower
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