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Andrés Cerpa
Friends, family, gallows saints & ghosts, rig a swing at the edge of the shore when I'm gone for the birds to perch & the bats to glide through, to disappear & appear in the small places the moon cannot touch.

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Callista Buchen
I sit with my grief. I mother it. I hold its small, hot hand.

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Tomaž Šalamun (translated from the Slovenian by Brian Henry)
Houses open their mouths, swallow flowers. Lightning doesn't choose. I brushed the spruces by hand. A car has a tire, a farmhand a whip, trash cans are falling. We have two natures.

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Emily Berry
Somebody said: 'I am a master of elision.' I veiled my tended wound. I veiled my narrative. Somebody called it: 'some kind of gratuitous beauty.' I veiled my photograph of her in sixties playsuit

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Jenny George
It could have been any gate, any moment when things go one way and not the other—an act of tenderness or a small, cruel thing done with a pocketknife. A child being born. Or the way we move from sleeping to dreams, as a river flows uneasy under ice.

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One of the secrets of public life is that, despite the public record, people of color were indeed out and about. In public. They were at the parties, asking questions (“What is the occasion?”), watching, listening, immersed in spring and the quandary that is American freedom. Remarkably, “In Memoriam” exposes this secret.

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Wong May
Listen if you listen carefully for long you will hear nothing

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Bradley Trumpfheller
This time, I’ll be a girl & you can be anything alive. Take the rope off your wrists.                                                                           Somewhere far away from here,                      a star’s unspooling its star-white curtain.

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Nazelah Jamison
one person can make a difference this is my new personal revolution cause and effect, instant means to an end warn all your friends

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Sara Michas-Martin
I listen to a hammock filled with wind and where all of it goes and in a cloaked way there is a dark river that flows through a town named Christmas

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