Photo by James Howard

James Hopkin

  HIPSTERS AT AN EXHIBITION   "If we all had our middle fingers...
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Norman Finkelstein

No, we will not speak of it. Not / at present.

Jonáš Hájek

Jonas Hajek

I don’t know how and why I should even tell you, / since time has only heightened our estrangement, / that you’ve made me a man.

Naomi Huan

Naomi Huan

your father loves us / too much / for flowers / she said

Robin Wyatt Dunn

Robin Wyatt Dunn

I allow myself one grain of heroin a week. The money I am saving. I could move to Florida. Madagascar. I could kill a priest.

F. Daniel Rzicznek

F. Daniel Rzicznek

He chooses so late // and I fail to swerve—

Tania Hershman

Tania Hershman

I want to be the only / surgeon in the world / who knows how / to cut you open, stitch / you up.

Photo: Fotowerk Aichner

Ales Steger

The chauffeur takes off his blindfold and leaves him in front of an unfamiliar villa by a lake. The door opens to a dim living room. Crackling embers in the fireplace. Some twenty masked people, cloaked in black habits.

Stephen Burt

Stephen Burt’s The Poem Is You | Friday Pick

Burt’s new book is an intriguing hybrid – anthology, introduction, and critical study all at once.

Deborah Allbritain

Deborah Allbritain

Sometimes I dream of that boy on his deathbed, calling for water, // a cold cloth, just before he dies, the atoms of him beginning to collapse

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