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Sieverts and Joules | Plate 136 Butter Lamp With Moths
Maybe there’s a new way to be nuclear, not using rods with their troublesome impermanent cladding, their
Sally Ball
In Praise of Wandering
You ask how we do it. Simple.
Alice Friman
The Night Dancers
Praise the shadows that slither up candlelit walls
Grace Schulman
How Self-Consciousness Counts
Why in hell should anyone understand
Stephen Todd Booker
PRESENTIMENTS
Such as the sun might present—out of sight—
Peter Cooley
Ambition
Four in the morning,
Simon Armintage
Tchaikovsky’s Fifth, On Freud’s Birthday [May 5] & In Vienna
The first movement of Tchaikovsky’s
David Lehman
Two poems by Krystyna Lenkowska translated from Polish by Cecilia Woloch
When I was young
Krystyna Lenkowska
The Last Phonebooth
The last phone booth on the planet smells
Joanna Fuhrman
ON EMPATHY
Wary of the verb “empathize”—together with its noun “empathy” and adjective
DeWitt Henry
I Became Friends | When I Was Fifteen | I Can Recall
I became friends with a girl who was in the institution with me, also fifteen, also getting shock treatment, a girl who
Paola Antonetta Susanne
The Little Engine
He is not an engine that could. Busted up, broken and backward, call him “fucked-up,”
Rebecca Cook
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