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Poems
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The Poets and Translators Speak
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Which Makes Me, I Guess, the Muddy Colorado
What we learn from most pornography is
Patrick Donnelly
BUSH | SERIAL
Warms thieves.
Diane Vreuls
Vesper
The sky is blue for reasons other than atmospheric ones.
Chard deNiord
February Elegy with Tulips on a Glass Table
It’s the yellow dust inside the tulips.
Alison Jarvis
Vega
On my bed in late afternoon I am listening
Brian Swann
Notes on a 39-Year-Old Body
Most internal organs jiggle and glow and are rosy
Mary Szybist
Two Stories and a Poem
Do you have a canned ham?
Lydia Davis
Into the Flame
And you lay for decades counting sheep
Jay Parini
CALLING BACK | CHARITY
My daughter sings in snow falling through the scent of red oak or ash, some of the flakes large enough to contain passages from Emily Dickinson’s letters.
Steven Cramer
Morning, Redux | Drift Road
Another morning in the obscure,
William Logan
Bird of Paradise
The songs of the mariachi in the park
Beckian Fritz Goldberg
A Pittsburgh Bakery in Winter
Into Prantl’s, on Walnut Street,
Joseph Bathanti
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