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Poems
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Eros Caught Napping
Eros at one time or another in the era before
Fortunato Salazar
The World As Sound
I didn’t speak until I was five
Michael Simms
Edinburgh University Anatomical Collection
Take shelter awhile from mortality
Karl Kirchwey
Hyphen
Blue-black on my inked page,
Joan Larkin
In a Pile of Pictures
The man—young enough to be my son—
Sandy Solomon
Chekhov’s Gun
Atonement means nothing to a cook
Fiona Sze-Lorrain
Three Fascinations
to wake to an alarm
Carol Moldaw
Close to now
I should have said from the beginning that I plant the black nasturtiums because they are the saddest
Zoë Ryder White
From Rainer Maria Rilke’s Die Sonette an Orpheus / The Sonnets to Orpheus translated from German by John Rosenwald
O fountain-mouth, you gift-giver, you mouth
Rainer Maria Rilke
Summer circa 1967-2xxx
My mother & the other ladies
Jo-Ann Mort
Alexandru (1904 – 1984)
You cross the hill by wagon to Românești. Airplanes stretch ropes of milk in our way not unlike the wire you’d
Moni Stanila
The Uncanny
Suppose a rational man
Bruce Cohen
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