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Poems
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What I knew about
Floyd Skloot
Rizal Stadium, World War II
He was almost home, poor guy.
Ron Smith
Remembering Lethe
Yesterday, a friend reached out:
Brian Culhane
Chaja-Lea Returns
This is where we were
Eric Odynocki
January 28 | Basho
Today it is snowing again and I’m thinking of Borges.
David Young
Archaeologists
Archaeologists found
Hoyt Rogers
Four Poems
I don’t like it
Rae Armantrout
LETTERS FROM EDINBURGH
some deluge loafing letter
Drew Milne
Mr. Palomar’s Wave
A long time ago, I went with my aunt to hear
Julie Bruck
Triangulated
Is it the ship that's moving or the sea that's moving, the tide flowing against the ship?
Alpay Ulku
OÚ EST LE CHAT
I can ask this, which is good
Cathleen Calbert
Antonio Gamoneda, from Book of the Cold (World Poetry Books, May 2022) translated from Spanish by Katherine M. Hedeen and Víctor Rodríguez Núñez
You smell the wet linens, your acids.
Antonio Gamoneda
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