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Arf
At the stoplight in Dogleg children swept metal
Peter Jay Shippy
I Dreamed of Obama on the Night of His First Election
He stirred the coals of my dwindling campfire. We were alone. Blue tendrils of smoke punctuated the Mesozoic haze
Kathleen Flenniken
The Fortieth Day | Pussy Riot/Want/Don’t/Want
Now she called forth nights of a different kind of brilliance when the moon wrapped every thing with light—
Dzvinia Orlowsky
Listening to Stone
The man who carved you vied and gossiped
Alice Derry
Women and Monday Rondelet
Without them, one could end up straight
Hailey Leithauser
Between Poems | It Was | Było
Here in this moment before the perfect poem
Tadeusz Dziewanowski
Miss Favour, or Dear rsmith@gmail.org
Hello Dearest, My name is Miss Favour,
R.T. Smith
Coal Bin
Some witchy and slinky,
John Skoyles
From Pendant que Perceval tombait, by Tania Langlais, translated from French by Jessica Cuello
you don’t know how to write with lightness
Tania Langlais
Poem by Zuzanna Ginczanka (1917-1945) translated from Polish by Alex Braslavsky
There’s now a so-so year for you: 1933—
Zuzanna Ginczanka
Prizefighting
$25 Cleaning Fee
Derek JG Williams
Wait a Minute, It’s Simple
As I chewed thoughtful fruit breakfast
Arthur Vogelsang
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