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David Baker
We came to the island. We stayed in the house. Rain and sun. Bougainvillea. Pink cedar. How many shadows slipped along walls or whetted the leaves of century plants?

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W. W. Norton & Company

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Alcman (translated from the Greek by Dan Beachy-Quick)
They are sleeping, mountain-heads, headlands, and the gullies, too— the fallen leaves and the tribe of slow-footed creatures the dark earth grows—

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Milkweed Editions

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Luisa Muradyan
Or as every other late 80s action hero my mother successfully jumping off of a skyscraper onto another skyscraper my mother hunting the Predator with a cigar lodged in her mouth my mother saying sonofabitch in the coolest way imaginable

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The Threepenny Review

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Joy Priest
how long we done lived—                                                                us-folk, for whom heaven is live                                broadcast. our down-at-the-heel place. filthy &                                    barefoot.

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University of Pittsburgh Press

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Anna Newman
The girl is pacing back and forth in my mind inside her payphone booth. Her pennies are like fancy moths.

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Sugar House Review

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Don Mee Choi

It was so cold that my fingers were ready to snap off, but I still went over to my friend’s house to play. Then I heard a machine gun and saw a swarm of soldiers. They looked like ants against the snow. Come out! they shouted. We will kill you all! But my friend and I kept on playing.

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Wave Books

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Brendan Joyce
-- drunk & under age, every warehouse empty like my pockets, every cavity in this city's foaming mouth, every inch of the continued occupation of this continent; the ghosts of a failed general strike

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Grieveland

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Honora Ankong
Loving black women back to life         today I’m loud in my veneration. I am a black woman in want mouth agape       yelling we are alive      we are living       god!

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The Maine Review

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Brian Teare
from fifty miles away, a thousand feet below the field I love, I tried to remember how spring undoes the year like a knot : how winter hay’s flat thin cover turns gold, gray beneath rain, keeps close to ground the germinal heat :

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Omnidawn

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Adam Fagin

If among the waxwing's flight, I describe unbroken light, I describe water among the sleep of birds. A wingbeat governing swift fluidities of form.

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Center for Literary Publishing at Colorado State University

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