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Poems
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Pandemic Fugue
These are the skies of my childhood
Jody Bolz
Tolstoi Learned to Ride a Bike at an Age When Most of Us Cash in Chips by Annette Barnes & Stuart Friebert
There we were, watching the parade, while he climbed up
Annette Barnes
Cento for the Turn of the Year
Assume nothing. Take a position:
Rachel Hadas
Mari Küla and Mari Meli
Manuela Colipe Benavente breathes in the sun so that she can sleep.
Jaime Luis Huenún
Toussaint
The soul, you said, is this sour wind, or this empty glass, the tiny steps of insects, these white iron
Jean-Michel Maulpoix
Thomas Hardy in the Dorset County Museum
Turned sideways in a desk chair,
Floyd Skloot
Exclusive Beautiful Grapheme War
history means touch, bodies
G.C. Waldrep
1945
The winter trees offer no shade no shelter.
Jean Valentine
Two poems by Louis-Philippe Dalembert translated from French by Nancy Naomi Carlson
dune of a beauty
Louis-Philippe Dalembert
Embraced
I have visited an ancient redwood and heard it creak
Martha Rhodes
Three Stages of Friendship and Grief
I was wondering if your eyelashes had fallen out
Elizabeth Jacobson
Eight Poems
An Amazon can be used for so much. The ashtray
Marie Lundquist
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