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Poems
Contributors
Authors
Translators
Archive
Plume Issues
The Poets and Translators Speak
Featured Selection
Book Reviews
Essays and Comment
Interviews
Newsletters
Station To Station
Anthologies
About
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The Injured Future
Far left cluster the listeners, their heads lifted toward the speaker.
Terese Svoboda
The Cricket
You too have risen at midnight
Beckian Fritz Goldberg
“October, and the sun burnishes”
October, and the sun burnishes the leaves so brightly you
Ralph Culver
Two Poems
I could never say anything about my father
Patricia Clark
The Last of Fanfare
By fire, then, but within view of a rough sea?
Carl Phillips
Ayotzinapa
We bite the shadow
David Huerta
On the Grounds of the Zendo
The face of the Buddha’s so smooth, she whispered,
Dick Allen
Ever Wish We’d Gone Beyond Being Friends? and My Auto Dealership
You asked. I’m remembering the vacation island
Scott Withiam
From The Little Book of Passage
Ecco il fiume che mi allarga lo sguardo, che mi attraversa la fronte.
Franca Mancinelli
On Sadness | On Beauty
I noticed something strange and beautiful about the word “sad.”
Kathleen Ossip
Three Poems
It’s good to see him young again,
William Trowbridge
NOT ALL SKELETONS ARE MUSEUM QUALITY
Under a sky as hazy-blue-polluted
Jay Hopler
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