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Poems
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The Wind Cried Mary
In 1967 when Hendrix coaxed, Are you experienced?
Dzvinia Orlowsky
Trash
Good you are trashing, my husband says, when I send him a photo
Nicole Cooley
Little Night Owl
For hours I’d lug her on my shoulder,
David Bottoms
HER MOUTH
Near the end, her mouth was pinned down
Julie Bruck
As So Often Happens | Twenty-two Years Later
As so often happens, in the middle
Jessica Greenbaum
My Obituary
Will it merit a full column in The Post or The Times
Linda Pastan
The Remaining Breast
I was showing my sister something about my breasts.
Alicia Ostriker
Physics & Green Room
Was Jesus materializing inside a locked room
Megan Wildwood
Another Argument with Jim About the Soul
You say I’d know it exists if
Stephen Dunn
Strychnine Tree
Stranger under this love-sick tree, lapful of terminal clusters
Jules Jacob
Two poems by Adélia Prado (from
Miserere
) translated from Brazilian Portuguese by Ellen Doré Watson
On what might be called a street,
Adélia Prado
A Heresy Sublime
An artist whom I’ve met is Dürer,
Stephen Todd Booker
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