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Poems
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Archive
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It’s the stage of grief where [I become a transparent eyeball]
I become a transparent eyeball. I am nothing. I see all.
Emily Skaja
1945
The winter trees offer no shade no shelter.
Jean Valentine
The Only One
In the stories of old there were always three.
Nin Andrews
Objects in Mirror Are Larger than They Appear
That beautiful girl on a bicycle smoking a cigarette:
Frannie Lindsay
Two Poems
In Vietnam, we rowed an old wooden boat
Jim Daniels
Toshno
Marina is trying to describe Raskolnikov’s interior state
Barbara Hamby
Undomesticated
The large goose does what it always will,
Gerry LaFemina
Nail tr. by Anita Gopalan
A piece of heart that doesn’t pain on breaking
Geet Chaturvedi
HOUSEKEEPING: Frida’s Future Kiss
After the palm reader told her no man would ever claim her,
Lois P. Jones
The Daughter and 6AM
I wish I had another chance
Linda Pastan
First Communion, forty-two and the unnamed
I shall sit here, on this bench,
Kristian Koželj
Tranquility & Tremolo
Where song is, fire begins, tightens,
Keith Flynn
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