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Poems
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The Clacklet
Buttons taken from a sewing box
Julie Hanson
Why the Sphinx Likes Riddles and Episodic
What she did,
Rae Armantrout
The Way Forward | Fountainebleau
Swordplay is all
Andrea Cohen
The Mystery
The mystery of our time
Alicia Ostriker
The Muse Writes Luis Jorge Borges A Letter On His 86th Birthday
The night has entered your eyes
Chard deNiord
City Harbor
How often we come to a headland and a city opens,
Carol Frost
Toussaint
The soul, you said, is this sour wind, or this empty glass, the tiny steps of insects, these white iron
Jean-Michel Maulpoix
Borges at Dolphin Books: New Orleans, 1982
He props his cane between Maps & True Crime,
David Wojahn
Post-
Clenching, unclenching her thin white fingers,
Annie Kim
Ars Poetica
Sometimes I feel
Cornelius Eady
Repair
In this, our chapter on enamelware
Greg Sendi
My Friend, Nice Socks & The Last Dance
My friend wanted to have breakfast at the local strip club.
Peter Johnson
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