IX.15 By Martial, Translated by Tyler Goldman Fall 2016 Odious Chloe wrote this on her seven husbands’ graves: 0 Comments
Look, the Human Is Shrinking By Kaveh Akbar Fall 2016 It’s normal to do it alone, the feint-and-jab of forgetting. I believe in only what I can recite from memory, like the ninety-nine names for thirst: soft-hell, root-torn-from-soil, rain- 0 Comments
X.9 By Martial, Translated by Tyler Goldman Fall 2016 Yes, I’m that Martial known all across the world for my elegiac couplets, hendecasyllables, 0 Comments
How to be alone By Donika Kelly Summer 2016 Not that you ever are. The small, rough dogs lie at your feet or warm your belly. 0 Comments
Swallow By Donika Kelly Summer 2016 The first time you swallow— the light, lurid and cold— 0 Comments
Bower By Donika Kelly Summer 2016 Consider the bowerbird and his obsessionof blue, and then the island light, the acacia,the grounded beasts. Here, the iron smell of blood,the sweet marrow, fields of grass and bone. 0 Comments
Bad Uncle By William Logan Summer 2016 He was the last cowboy in Massachusetts, stabling the palomino in his mother’s garage, 0 Comments
Fox and Crow By Fred Chappell Summer 2016 Fox spots Crow in the top of a tree.“That carrion she pecks must come to me.”He ponders how to ply his witAnd award himself the whole of it. 0 Comments
Even on the Greatest Subjects Too Much Can Be Said By Kay Ryan Summer 2016 You can oversellthe sea, say, orthe way we miss 0 Comments
Only the Beginning of the Sharpness By Kay Ryan Summer 2016 It’s hard forthe mastersharpener afterall that workto have the shafttaken for the point. 0 Comments
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