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Pitty-Pat
Oleander to the death of horses
Donald Revell
The Occupant Imagines the House as a Great Fish & Eight Things…
It has already swallowed a century, each year a silver iridescent scale. For eight, she has lived in its belly,
Jennifer Maier
No use
On October 21, 1962, Sylvia Plath wrote one poem that became two.
Kathleen Ossip
the ugly purple corpse I lug behind me | you haven’t changed a bit
the ugly purple corpse I lug behind me
Edoardo Sanguineti
In Praise of Transformations
Not always dramatic. Often soundless.
Margaret Gibson
Occupation
As a peeper, some clear night, singing for a star,
Scott Withiam
Nail tr. by Anita Gopalan
A piece of heart that doesn’t pain on breaking
Geet Chaturvedi
Leopard Goes Through Hell Villanelle
When I am sober my brain calls me names.
Jennifer Michael Hecht
Copper Beech
Because it had been, quite literally,
Elaine Sexton
Armed Stasis
I will make a fact with you Robert Frost.
Charles Bernstein
Callas Poems
She whom you seek is not here!
Patrick Donnelly
Night World | The Gentle Soul
The barbed-wire vines
William Logan
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