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Poems
Contributors
Authors
Translators
Archive
Plume Issues
The Poets and Translators Speak
Featured Selection
Book Reviews
Essays and Comment
Interviews
Newsletters
Station To Station
Anthologies
About
History and Mission
Staff
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NOT ALL SKELETONS ARE MUSEUM QUALITY
Under a sky as hazy-blue-polluted
Jay Hopler
Promiscuous and Thanking My Breasts
Promiscuous is what my mother
Kim Dower
The Last Few Feet
And so the thyme fell and spilled a neat pile
John A. Nieves
Three Poems
My fingers grow white with winter, blood
Traci Brimhall
SUNDAYS | ALONE
Mournful Sunday afternoons in winter,
Georges Rodenbach
Forced March
I remembered it wrong, the scene in the film
Susan Aizenberg
Me & Whiskey
Collided hard
Robert Nazarene
Visitor’s Coming
I’ve laid out
Karl Krolow
A Fable: The Floss-Silk Tree and the Philodendron
In Brazil they call the floss-silk palo borracho
Peter Meinke
Four From Delos
Saw the ring of her
Jeffrey Skinner
Three Poems
Being adopted means I have choices on “The Meaning of Your Name”
John Gallaher
Weather Report
These white stripes of day achieve
Grace Cavalieri
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