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Index
Oloid and Pareidolia
Saturday, awake to the raw April outside. A dream that was on my tongue is gone with a swallow.
Jennifer Martelli
Swan Song
I admit. In the beginning
Alice Friman
Oak | Installation
I sat at it, a good table—one of a number
Dore Kiesselbach
The Way Forward | Fountainebleau
Swordplay is all
Andrea Cohen
Grandpa David Told Me Once of Carpathia, a Place He had Never Been
His hospital topped
Xander Gershberg
Three poems from The Abduction by Maram Al-Masri, translated from French by Hélène Cardona
I hugged him
Maram Al-Masri
Confusing Myself with the Whippoorwill
Today, I was a madness of regrettable actions. At the convenience store, I eyed the cashiers warily as they slouched in
Christopher Kennedy
In Search of Grace
With slush to ground the Erie trees
Lisa Rose Bradford
The Seven Mysteries of Our-Lady Madonna
They emerge out of distance,
Frances Richey
Slowly But Not Too Much and When Your Lover Leaves You
as if making your way through an alphabet
Angie Estes
A History of Mirrors
We’ve accidentally collided with something real tonight
Colin Pope
Leaving the Big City
So afterward I sat by the bosphorus blue water and many dazzling
Peter Balakian
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