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Poems
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Archive
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The Poets and Translators Speak
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Abend in Skåne | Du, Nachbar Gott | Wie der Wächter
The park is high. As from a house
Rainer Maria Rilke
Alone at 77 & I Arrive at the Scene
Unhungry, he cracks a single egg.
Sydney Lea
Elegy
The floor is littered with clothes I once wore
Emily Fragos
Heroic Register
I imagine a bed in the middle of a room.
Griffin Brown
True Bug | I Will Be Good
I’ve been talking to a bug all winter.
Cleopatra Mathis
Four Square and Enthralled
Mornings I’m grateful to my nightly self
Charles O. Hartman
No Nonsense | The Layout
Split off for a sec
Charlie Smith
Bruised Fruit
These sun-poached pages like an old address book
W.S. Di Piero
The Freud Museum
It’s 1938. Here’s moss on red brick
Ruth Padel
Trás-Os-Montes
Tiny and bent over
Jose-Flore Tappy
Bright in June Sun
The young man, kneeling at his mother’s tomb, lays red tulips there,
Mark Irwin
ANTIGONE CONSIDERS HER FAMILY: Father and Mother
He was always unhappy—
Jennifer Franklin
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