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Poems
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Authors
Translators
Archive
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The Poets and Translators Speak
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Interviews
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Station To Station
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Index
It Was A 3.8
My mother said go get me a plum.
Ron Slate
Resumé
Families shame you;
Kim Addonizio
Madonna in Blue
An aneurism in the sun, a gravity-wave.
Richard Kenney
Rembrandt and the Great Drought
Before your birth, of course, the drought
Linda Bierds
Checkerboard Mesa
Dear mesa, dome of rock, do you remember your deep past?
Robin Rosen Chang
ELK | RUE MOUFFETARD |
The man who said he could smell the girls ovulating
Leslie Adrienne Miller
Dust
You return with us to the grave,
Hoyt Rogers
[I encircle you] translated by Sasha Dugdale
I encircle you as a zone of mountains, granite corona
Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
A WOMAN I KNEW ATE FIRE FOR BREAKFAST
And the light would tattoo itself across her mouth
Susan Rich
Three Poems
My fingers grow white with winter, blood
Traci Brimhall
Tom’s Sublet and Without Longing, What?
Once, a long time ago in Rome, I was bathed
Alice Friman
Scene from a Photograph in a Dream
What was I doing in my childhood room again?
Jeffrey Harrison
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