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Poems
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Hagstrom
I examine my scarred torso
Neil Silberblatt
Dear Lucinda Williams and Dear Jules
A power in proximity to terror, the lower middle-class sublime of a car’s back seat,
Bruce Smith
First Wedding
It was one of those days when not even the bland sun
Diane K. Martin
Shot | Total Eclipse
Don’t be distracted by
Joseph Campana
Joy
Even when the gods have driven you
Dorianne Laux
The Caravaggio Room
Yuck, you heave in front of that sick boy
Ron Smith
Velvetleaf
Tick of sweet clover, swinecress parasite, did you have a music
Jane Springer
The Last Photograph
a golden shovel on the opening line of Gwendolyn Brooks’ “To Prisoners”
Carrie Etter
Three Poems
His Majesty’s flock of Spanish sheep at Kew is most grievously afflicted...
Rachel Careau
Zero Plus Anything is a World
Four less one is three.
Jane Hirshfield
Three poems by Nadia Mifsud translated from Maltese by Miriam Calleja
abracadabresque this silence spreading sorrow
Nadia Mifsud
Rune
Not timber or bronze or iridium, not the old habits of species at a waterhole or the short
Maxine Chernoff
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