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Poems
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A BAT IN THE HOUSE
swoops high, webbed little arms for
Marianne Boruch
Three Poems
Woman in Drugstore, Receptionist, Counter Lady with Change for a Quarter, Clubwoman, Saleslady, Train Passenger
David Trinidad
Oloid and Pareidolia
Saturday, awake to the raw April outside. A dream that was on my tongue is gone with a swallow.
Jennifer Martelli
Just Before Sunset in December
It must have something to do with the angle of the earth
Ed Meek
Sieverts and Joules | Plate 136 Butter Lamp With Moths
Maybe there’s a new way to be nuclear, not using rods with their troublesome impermanent cladding, their
Sally Ball
Wait a Minute, It’s Simple
As I chewed thoughtful fruit breakfast
Arthur Vogelsang
Wilderness
The mind is a wilderness like Bartram’s, razed, cemented over, marked by rows
Carol Frost
GHAZAL 4
How sullen we’ve become in the belly of the empire;
Deema K. Shehabi
Poems from My Deathbed (and Just Beyond)
More than ever cherishing
Linda Bamber
The Cricket
You too have risen at midnight
Beckian Fritz Goldberg
Beipei, Low Water, Winter 1985
Li Ping is peeling
Andrea Lingenfelter
Possibility of Erasure | There Are Corpses Buried in Them
It is snowing this morning.
Okla Elliott
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