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Poems
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Archive
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The Poets and Translators Speak
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Interviews
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Station To Station
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Henry’s Song
Sometimes sitting in a friend's backyard on a fall evening
Beckian Fritz Goldberg
Redeye | The Window’s Water
that never sets,
Terese Svoboda
Poems translated from Romanian by Monica Cure
Adila watches as evening falls
Adela Greceanu
Uncle
Here is the man who tells you
Peter Campion
PRESENTIMENTS
Such as the sun might present—out of sight—
Peter Cooley
HOUSEKEEPING: Frida’s Future Kiss
After the palm reader told her no man would ever claim her,
Lois P. Jones
A Five-Years-Late Note to Jake Adam York
In Chicago, where the light plows over the lake into convention
John A. Nieves
At the End of the Alphabet
Books bloated and fanned
Lee Upton
In a Pile of Pictures
The man—young enough to be my son—
Sandy Solomon
First Communion, forty-two and the unnamed
I shall sit here, on this bench,
Kristian Koželj
Earth, Temple, Gods
A woman's feet, in lace-up sandals made of stone.
Amy Gerstler
From “The Last Letter of My Body”, translated from Russian by Anne O. Fisher
it’s winter here: the winter rains come, the roses bloom
Alex Averbuch
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