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Poems
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It’s 3 A.M., Winter, and Nine Miles from Truckee
and nobody better than I to tell you about
Suzanne Lummis
OLD LOVE LETTERS
I too have my stack
Tony Hoagland
In a Room with Many Windows
In a room with many windows
Jane Hirshfield
Amsterdam
Your shadow is born new
Bob Hicok
Tongue of Language | Nightmare
Oh tongue of language, moving with your comb
Annie Finch
How It Is
Say how it is
Phillis Levin
DEATH MARCH
Carry her the way it has to hurt:
Terese Svoboda
Drink with Mountain, Remembered, Andalucían
The rosé from Spain
Maureen N. McLane
Grandpa David Told Me Once of Carpathia, a Place He had Never Been
His hospital topped
Xander Gershberg
Virginia Woolf: Three Fragments (1910)
i.How much must we carry with us? Must we bear the souls of errand boys, drovers, butchers in bloody smocks, the
Campbell McGrath
Paramouria & You Do What You’re Good At
You know (you think), and then
Ralph Culver
The End
Whatever is coming is the end, but not really.
Rebecca Lehmann
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