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By Sheila Black
We come at the wrong time of year by a hair
or a week, and the brown birds flying onward,
out of reach. My son tilts his head.
By Rasheed Copeland
It took us this long to slow our dying
down to a languid and sensible pace
wherein the sugar might claim each our limbs
By Tanya Paperny
click on a live stream
of a memorial event
to commemorate victims
of Soviet terror
By Kim Marshall
We rush toward change, ask:
do you love me?
By David Gewanter
Wealth, passing through the hands
of the few, becomes the property
of the many, ensuring the survival
By Sandra Beasley
We take pride in serving the
We’re accustomed to servicing the
Please take the attached
Please answer these six
By John James
In Georgetown, IN, the steel projector reels.
The desert stretches blankly before us, a red
plain constellated with rows of dry mesquite.
By Dan Vera
A is for apple.
B is for banana – treasure fruit of the tropics
which replaced the apple on the breakfast table of Victorian America.
C is for Carmen Miranda smiling
By Sarah Browning
After the great snow of 2016, my car sits
locked in icy drifts a week, green fossil
of the oil age preserved in graying amber.
By Zahara Heckscher
This is a love song
to the invisible waves
that travel through the air
finding the antenna