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Traveling Time

By Lisa Marie Basile

would have never gone to another city

would have never caught the moth

and named her Sofia

would have never made milk on my own

would have never filed my ...

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My Life: Doing

By Laura Cronk

Up bow

Down bow

Up truck

Down truck

Up sock

Throw sock

Miss bin

Try again

Haul out vacuum

Back forth

Up mug

Down mug

Up pen

Down pen

Up ...

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The Disappearing

The Disappearing has been redeveloped and we invite you to submit your poems about fading and disappeared places and spaces. Explore now »

Pioneers

By Lisa A. Flowers

Shot in the back of the head that Fourth of July

Your memories only went speeding back, so many miles

In wagon trains

Before they reached the sea

 

A coast ...

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Detention

By Sammy Greenspan

Why must you dress so differently from everyone else

There is no room here for those without credential

How dare you interlope without credential

What makes you so special

Who ...

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Time Warps & General Douglas MacArthur Visits The MacArthur Center Mall

By Jeffrey Hecker

Unfortunately, time only warps forward since the 1960s.

General’s body remains deceased, but not his spirit. 

General poses ...

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Secrets

By Leslie Anne Mcilroy

I am not quiet or under the din of things.
My heart — even muffled — is loud.
This is the sound you hear at night.

You won’t know how I ...

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Space

By Rebecca Melnyk

Guess that’s it for the space program?

Lately, dreams of a body with no feet

my mother’s ashes at dusk, a baby

born from a box that is ...

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Hunger

By Chloe Yelena Miller

 My hunger is a bit snooty.

I crave sugar covered beignets,

plump fried artichoke hearts,

paper thin pizza crust,

baked organic asparagus,

millefoglie cake,

limoncello

 

and my grandmother’s ziti ...

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On the Road to the Contagious Crack House

By Dave Roskos

row houses 
occupied by their original owners 
first generation Hungarian 
immigrants brought in 
to the states by Johnson 
& Johnson early in the 
20th century 

plaster Madonnas 
& no shortage 
of shrines ...

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I can’t remember my First Memory

By Gene Tanta

By now, my first memory is only a memory of a memory; a shadow of a shadow as the Buddha says. By now, it has become translated into wall-to-wall sunlight ...

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My Antidote

By Gene Tanta

for Mirela

I remember when I first saw you on that snowy porch in the Iowan night-shine. Tree branches were giving themselves freely to the wind and then my eyelids ...

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Crooked as a Foreign Hat on a Foreign Head

By Gene Tanta

A fascist does not like to be spoken to. When others have their say, he takes it as an impudent interruption. He is impervious to reason because he recognizes it ...

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Dusk

By Sean Thomas Dougherty

Smokestack dusk dance,                            the swing shift from the metallurgy plant 

smoking on break in the dusk,                   near the empty laundry mat 

where I wash the dusk from my clothes,   where ...

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Dandelions

By Joe Weil

Gone to seed gone to 
gosling, old lady fuzz, 
gone from the bright 
yellow, 
gone things—ugly stalk 
and spores I kick 

with my workboot 
to watch the seeds 
explode ...

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