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Poems
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A Bookstore in Hay-on-Wye
In a Tudor castle now a vast used bookstore in Hay-on-Wye
Andrei Codrescu
Dawn Without Sun & Mist Gently Smothers Sight
Dawn without sun
André du Bouchet
The Podium
He is bilious, potty-mouthed, at once puffy and rachitic. He sways, eyes red and rheumy as September strawberries.
D. Nurkse
Two Poems
Deer sniff red November
Katherine Soniat
Quotidian and Carry
Steak dinners are the worst /you prefer the fatty cut / those white-ribboned slabs from Save-A-Lot
Amanda Newell
Boy in a Hole
The boy meant to help his father
Maxine Scates
The Lost Explorers
Give me the lost explorers, the last-seens,
Grace Schulman
California King, Head of the Meadow and A Miracle of Saint Anthony
The little bright red car
Karl Kirchwey
Someone Is Walking the Pig
Someone is walking the pig in our downstairs hallway, where the shops are.
Fleda Brown
The Rehearsal
At our first duo rehearsal—Bach’s B-
Lloyd Schwartz
Personal Life | I, Too, Arrived Here in the End | Godard
The universe is vast and boundless
Hsia Yü
the primate hospital
I have raptured the oars.
G.C. Waldrep
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