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The Podium
He is bilious, potty-mouthed, at once puffy and rachitic. He sways, eyes red and rheumy as September strawberries.
D. Nurkse
Toshno
Marina is trying to describe Raskolnikov’s interior state
Barbara Hamby
The Lost Explorers
Give me the lost explorers, the last-seens,
Grace Schulman
Poetry: A Mirror, a Pencil and an Envelope. Seven Minutes with D. Nurkse and Nancy Mitchell
In this candid interview, D. Nurkse reflects on a long life in poetry and political activism
D. Nurkse
At the Cemetery
Cloud cover from horizon to horizon
Alan Shapiro
The Cormorant
They slip the string
Lee Upton
Looking Back on My Libido
It wasn’t love; it wasn’t even sex—
Hilde Weisert
Poems translated from Romanian by Monica Cure
Adila watches as evening falls
Adela Greceanu
Liquidation
Final closeout, clearance sale, you said:
Virginia Konchan
What, Me?
When we’re in a car together I worry we’ll die and the world will lose its role models.
Maureen Seaton
Six Makeshift Trees Around My Bathtub
Above our heads a vertical shadow
Samira Negrouche
Willem Van de Velde the Younger, Ships in a Gale (1660) and Matsumura Goshun, Crab (late 18th century)
The storm dissolves the difference between wave,
Ricardo Pau-Llosa
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