Carol Westberg

  BITTER HOUSE   In my fear I’ll end up bitter as chicory and alone,          alone, wind...
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Tyler Goldman

The smell of rain. / Or, then again, // the smell of an azalea. / Or the sea.

Michael Hettich

She folds a piece of typing paper / into a house. Let’s live here, she says

Francesca Bell

Five years into your child’s illness, / when you can no longer conceive of life / without its dank presence, you see / a blanched sky bearing a trace of rose / and the moon, risen huge—

Douglas Nordfors

We've thought of how sunlight falls to the pavement / like rain, gathers in the gutters, slides toward the grates.

Roy Mash

Every time someone dies / it feels like / another victory for me.

Stephanie Burt’s Advice from the Lights | Friday Pick

Burt’s riddles are a clever solution to the problem of how to communicate specific personal experience in a way that maintains a modicum of the universal, a problem she has explored in her criticism.

Claudia F. Savage

Somehow we knew your granddaughter / would need calm. We named her for what carries on.

Amy Katherine Cannon

if you have a favorite cup         remember it might be broken

Garret Keizer

Life is not like Beckett. / Only Beckett is like Beckett.

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