Sean Shearer
There were woods behind my house                       scattered with berries I couldn’t digest. I’d curl on top of the dirt                 hugging the knot inside my belly and now                                                I’m in bed kissing a pale green vein as I listen to his voice like a knife with its scar—                                                                            six birds stretched across a fret board.
from the book Red Lemons / University of Akron Press
Tiana Nobile
Of an animal, especially a bird. A wandering species whom no seas nor places limit. A seed who survives despite the depths of hard winter. The ripple of a herring steering her band from icy seas to warmer strands.
Donald Revell
My mother's name was Doris, A Greek unknown to her. Hidden Among the wild herbs in their patterns Are first things, and first things never die. To them, the afterlife is a memory.
Benjamín Naka-Hasebe Kingsley
                as every thing begins        with the heart        beat of horses a tribe        the thudded color        of all creation                 my people gather        brindle        as if the night were drizzled long        across their backs        she                 of sickle sword        of tendon & tusk
Maria Stepanova (translated from the Russian by Sasha Dugdale)
they travelled a long time longlongtime dumbstruck stillstanding trees not-earth and earth pressed close builder's yards    morgues    fly-tips

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