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Poems
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Seven Minutes with Afaa Weaver and Nancy Mitchell
Were it not for his silver hair
Afaa Michael Weaver
From Bajo la lluvia ajena (In Foreign Rain) by Juan Gelman, translated by Lisa Rose Bradford
On the tiers of experience.
Juan Gelman
Tattoos | Tattoos
They come with stories. Like the woman whose thorny twist
Rebecca Goss
Whatever Alights
A zillion yeses to the titmice at my feeder,
Betsy Sholl
Don’t Bum Out the Musicians
At St. Paul’s church, the musicians have heard it all.
Cornelius Eady
The Path of Non-Attachment
Andrew totaled my car, leveled the house,
Tanya Grae
Burning Leaves
Leaf-fires smell like
Chase Twichell
On Breathing and Not Breathing—The Sequence
Once, a man stopped breathing
Suzanne Lummis
A Heresy Sublime
An artist whom I’ve met is Dürer,
Stephen Todd Booker
A WOMAN I KNEW ATE FIRE FOR BREAKFAST
And the light would tattoo itself across her mouth
Susan Rich
Want
How do I want you? Let me count the ways.
Troy Jollimore
Blueprint and Ancient Story
The poem I want to build needs a vestibule
Phillis Levin
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