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Slight of Hand

I’ve come for you, cushion-soft instead of being wrapped, we’re loose salt and spray / solid and shadow at once a frame brightens lime when one of...

The Last Days

In the last days, we press our dirty bodies together A new kind of prayer—and I am asking you To be honest with me, I am asking...

Four Poems by Charles Bernstein

Loose Lips Lift All Slips It wasn’t so long ago and then it was. Sliding till you hit false bottom, wrestling metaphor for sleep. It wasn’t so long and then...

8th Day

  Image: "Bone Puzzle" by Carl, licensed under CC 2.0.

How Lonely Sat the Town

Quarry houses like napping men flanked us. We were born on the day of other births, many other births. Inside the train tracks were the sounds...

Dispatch

I lived on eggshells once, with my lover. I ate eggs for every meal. Listen, the lake keeps chipping into white glass. I do my best,...

Rabbit in Moonlight

Rabbit in moonlight startles as my door opens and clicks shut, but rabbit doesn’t run: it waits, poised on my lawn, interrupted. If I don’t get too close, it...

Remembrance Day

for John W. Pritchard, Jr. We should remember all the dead of the Sixth Marines. They survived the Battle of Okinawa, its rot stench under a "typhoon of steel," then they prepared...

“Please Return to Molly Goves”

Molly, if you read this poem, I have your three snapshots. What a lot of white-shirted redheads in plaid skirts, red and black, rioting in the school auditorium, each...

My Name Was Jason

On the south shore, an overdose claims a life every eight days - Massachusetts Department of Public Health, 2014 My palms so pale, palm to palm to...

To My Daughter, In the Present

If I were to tell you just one thing              in between the waves of pandemic        ...

The Stoplight at the Corner Where Somebody Had to Die

They won’t put a stoplight on that corner till somebody dies, my father would say. Somebody has to die. And my mother would always repeat: Somebody...