Interstatial | Michael Mlekoday

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All night, the frost-rimmed windowpane / conducts me into new states of sleep, / while town announcements beckon me back /
from days in my grandmother’s yard, /

Register of the Centennial | Brandon Downing

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Brandon Downing’s collections of poetry include The Shirt Weapon (2002), Dark Brandon (2005), AT ME (2010) and, most recently, Mellow Actions (2013). In 2007 he released a feature-length collection of short digital

Strange Joy | E J Cousins

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lucidity a single rope     the way in which there is no way detach allow myself a façade    indistinguishable from change walk down the blockinto the empty morning air  & here small thingsprecious

RENAME | Munira Tabassum Ahmed

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Ctrl+F [Find in document: মুনিরা 0 of 0]  I recognise this self. in drawings of koi fish andmenthol slicked lips. in weeks spent searching for all the fishbones in a  fillet.   warm hands

Witness | Kristina Erny

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Stand right there. I’m tired of bad poems about nature. I’m over motherhood and cook  tops and sweeping up again and again. I want to walk outside under the beamed  overpass without thinking about

the improper proposition | Will Newman

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reading meLevertov on the yellow sofa  reading you this line overlo mein reminding me no, we did that in bed reminding you of the resonant frequency  of theknitted garment  on our taken holiday first weekend away from our architects  New Hampshire

Head Lost Illuminating | John Liles

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* Voltage-gated pathways are depolarizedand pore-forming membrane proteinsallow calcium influx from adjacent solutions. (Cell insides become saturated) Excitation is mossy fiber runningsouthbound head-stems and paired shootsthrough once-relaxed tissue. * You’ve established rules,preventative

Is This Your Cow? | Nicole Caruso Garcia

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After 100 days learning German on Duolingo.com Your cow is pretty. I like your shoes. Do you like me? I bring strawberries and wine. The garden is not beautiful.   I eat the potato because

THE GAME | Despy Boutris

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There’s this game we used to play. I don’t think we ever came up with a name for it. In the aboveground pool, we became synchronized swimmers, twirling in tight circles, eyes to the blinding sky,

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