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Callimachus in Sicily
“the thing / that baffles travelers in Zanton / is that nobody who lives there is allowed / …to tell the whole story of how it came to be.” In Stephen Burt’s poem, Callimachus tells the story of a town whose citizens will never “name / the founders of the town, / who kept it safe through subterfuge and shame.”
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Kimberly Witham
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Kimberly talks with Darren Ching and Debra Klomp Ching about her Vanitas-inspired Of Ripeness And Rot series of still-life photographs.
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Attitudes at the New Year
“Pieces of righteousness look like a river of baroque pearls with mean, red, pre-digital eyes. ” Kathleen Ossip looks ahead and gathers her “ragged power,” trying for some way to do better this time.
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from island of no birdsong
“i want to believe / in the resurrection / of the body because / i have no memories / of birdsong.” In a new poem from Craig Santos Perez, documentary and lyric overlap in the destruction of both avian life and human culture on Guam.
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Bill Durgin
Bill Durgin talks with Darren Ching and Debra Klomp Ching about his creative process and inspiration for the Studio Fantasy series of photographs.
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Forty-nine
“To lift and see my hands. To see my elbows in a headstand. There went the earth, pressed down. There I went, up from what was dragging me.” A new essay on surprise, yoga, shooting, and writing from Colette LaBouff.
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The Devouring
“[H}e has outlived // everything but the taste / of his sons’ hair when gently / he kisses them incessantly // at the altar of their sleep.” In a new poem from Adam Tavel, Goya’s savage image of Saturn inhales decades of violence.
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Four Poems
“I must learn / the language of rain / to speak to plants.” A handful of new poems from Tyree Daye summon the dead and the living, family and prayer. “If there is something perfect in life,” he writes, “let it come now.”
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Elegy for the Routine
“His voice unzips / the few words he has formed // for this purpose, what he says / of coming apart.” The insidious dementia of a father fractures, assembles, retrieves, and unties in a new poem from Lauren Camp.
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An Arsenal of Sand
“Anger in our family was like the water: it had to go somewhere. Rise up, sink down, or burst everywhere at once.” An excerpt from Angela Palm’s Riverine: A Memoir from Anywhere but Here.
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There Was and How Much There Was
“The walls don’t have ears here. / Everybody is a woman here.” Zeina Hashem Beck weaves the conversations of women at a party into a world of song.
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Gest
“When time breaks you can feel it in your body at noon when half the day is done and again at 3 pm when you are going home.” Page Hill Starzinger’s poem of her parents’ decline tries to restore the house they can no longer keep. “No, my father said, don’t do that, it’s not a good house.”
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Seismodiptych: Skyline Aftermath
“A creak / A creaking / Your earth / Split and splayed” A crown of new poems from Ruth Ellen Kocher loops through outsets and aftermaths.
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Selections from Rave
“Gramercy, that you sang in clicks to say / That all the world is stirring / And alive.” Six new songs of praise from Marly Youmans gather brilliance from the likes of dragonflies, sorrow, and marbles.