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The Triumphs of 1974 & A Self-Guided Tour of Machu Picchu, OR Please, Sir/Madam, Step Away from the Edge of the Abyss
Moneyless, we moved to Cali,
John Wall Barger
In a Pile of Pictures
The man—young enough to be my son—
Sandy Solomon
Two poems by Adélia Prado (from
Miserere
) translated from Brazilian Portuguese by Ellen Doré Watson
On what might be called a street,
Adélia Prado
Three Fascinations
to wake to an alarm
Carol Moldaw
Henry’s Song
Sometimes sitting in a friend's backyard on a fall evening
Beckian Fritz Goldberg
Others & Kents
They stopped the car on the crest of Coleman Valley Road to show his sister and her husband the Pacific view.
Diane K. Martin
Pensé Que Estabas Muerto
but your deaths existed the nights you didn’t come home.
Jules Jacob
ALCHEMICAL MEDITATION
It abides in secret on my pencil tip—
Daniel Tobin
A Brief Portfolio
I was in sixth grade when I twirled Stephanie Comb’s
Nin Andrews
Bear Sometimes Thinks He’s Dead & Shelf Life
But lately he’s observed the Hermit Thrush
David Huddle
The Afterlife of Fish and Opossum
Whenever we caught fish when we were boys,
Jeffrey Harrison
I’ve Lived Long with the Dead | The Word Stays Here
I’ve lived long with the dead. I know their
Sylva Fischerová
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