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Poems
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Archive
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The Poets and Translators Speak
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Four Poems
One was dicing an onion,
Ron Slate
Not the Way it Was
Today I overheard a conversation
Leonard Kress
A Gaze Hound That Hunteth by the Eye
It’s not criminal: it isn’t sodomy
V. Penelope Pelizzon
A Canticle Rehearsal in The Temple and The Waters Do Not Return, Even to Meribà
Oh, I am tired of my land,
Salvador Espriu
On Contemplating a Sheep’s Skull
Skull aged so much in rain and heat,
John Kinsella
Listening to Stone
The man who carved you vied and gossiped
Alice Derry
SELF PORTRAIT IN THE BACKYARD AS MOTHER
Tulip-bellied, fists full of weeds, the baby shuffles over the wet grass,
Nicole Cooley
Getting Old, Thinking of Keats
Even though I’m old now
Gregory Orr
Wozzeck | Casualty
Even the toneless whisper finds its cradle, its home,
Bruce Bond
Boots and Bayonet
My platoon a loose group cross-legged
Karen Skolfield
Poem of the Quotidian
Night falls so swiftly in this part of town
Ruy Belo
Two Poems
the way a kitchen’s dirty washcloth
Joyce Peseroff
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