In the Old Packard 

Connemara Wadsworth
Maybe a hand-me-down from Uncle B, smells like a garage. Surely he’d found it, fixed it up, tinkered with it,
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Night Blindness

Beth Konkoski
When you wake me I am blind, closed around the night and faded like the quilt, born of the black
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Charles Rammelkamp
When I read about Mike Tyson taking a psychedelic drug called 5-MeO-DMT, derived from toad venom, I remembered the rumors
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Everything is the Same, Only Quieter

January Pearson
I push my dad past trimmed plots of Bermuda lawns orderly with hedges, hawthorn bushes bordering garage after garage unopened,
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Bioluminescence in Newport Harbor

January Pearson
 When the water glints like onyx shushing the dock, empty sailboats huddle and rock, when a red-winged blackbird tricks
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John Amen
My brother & I memorized our parents’ epic – their screams & grunts – mastering that pidgin of volatility. We
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Gene Pool

Jennifer Hambrick
They call it zero entry, the way the surround leans into the water and becomes the bottom of the pool,
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Francine Witte
Like a bloodstream cell that only knows its way to the heart, or the waves flowing oceanward, beachward for a
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I Think I Did It Wrong

Michael Mark
University. Waverly. I kept saying the street names in my head. Greene.  Astor. So I’d know how to get back
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Judy In The Sky With Toxic Masculinity

CL Bledsoe, Michael Gushue
Judy invented this sport where she loaded a herd of cattle onto a cargo plane and took it up to
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Hopper Man

Lucy Simpson
 (“Me only cruel immortality consumes…” Alfred Tennyson, Tithonus)  Grasshopper stoops; his shadow, an elephant holding a parasol, plods along achromatic
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Faking It

Adam Tavel
A dug-up corpse could wear your favorite shirt face-down on the gorge’s scrubby floor beside the burning s’more your flipped
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Triplewart Seadevil

Will Cordeiro
                                          Cryptopsaras couesii Down in the body-lit night-sodden sea, somber, sub umbra, I’m this tiny restless inchling, a mere appendage,
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Michael Mark
Each morning she swept stars from the wood floor, cursing as the bright bits scattered, and barked whenever I’d whine.
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If There’s an Angel of Lost Gloves

Denton Loving
my father didn’t believe and didn’t wait for holy intercession. He mislaid his gloves faster than his temper. He wasn’t
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The Long Walk in April [Howick, Northumberland]

Ceinwen Haydon
New bracken unfurls Sea-horse fronds born in grass Gnarled Ent shadows whorl Busy silence pulses past Sea-horse fronds born in grass Solitary
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Laced Intentions

Lorrie Ness
I hate lace curtains and their contortionist ways. Their holes deforming like Munch’s scream at the slightest tug— underdogs in
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Mademoiselle Ravoux

Kassandra Montag
--on the painting by Van Gogh The sunflowers grow taller this year. They nearly touch the sun. I climb a
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Dear Son

Therese Svoboda
It's the day before the day before. The sky is still blue. Which vessel for the DNA – lightship or
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Elegy for the Turtle

Eleanor Levine
I will be sad for a moment because she used words like “quotidian”—and “it’s ok to discuss your $900 compressor
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Dancing with a Doorknob

Barbara Conrad
Everything you’d want in a dance partner was there in Betsy’s basement, Friday night girl party, stereo blasting the Everly
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Shirley Brewer
in memory of my brother, Richard We piled into your burgundy ’48 Chrysler each October, our fall pilgrimage to the
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My Lanyard

Bruce Spang
As a boy I had no idea what to do with my hands. At Camp Hastings YMCA camp, where the
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What Did Noah Do For a Living?

Therese Svoboda Kentucky's 510 ft. Ark Encounter. Pine, not the customary gopher wood. $40 adult/day. Unlimited 7 day combo $99, zip
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We Want It to Be History

Terese Svoboda
Australians battled the flood until a bird with a leaf in its mouth showed them the way to Mt. Broome.
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Toby Goostree
Six months later, when your period returned to an empty house, curtains drawn, I bought an ovulation test; you were
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The Stone Menagerie

Daniel Jenkins
In Tanzania, a thesaurus of birds perch stiffly, petrified by the alkaline slime of Lake Natron. These avian stones, these
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Lice: Ode to Schuyler

John Repp

His phrase “starry lice” just stopped me cold.
My lice looked coal-black or, if contemplated
in damp fluorescence, tick-like
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Assigning a Value

Ace Boggess

Fear equals fear plus
the square root of consequences
divided by time alone.
That’s before factoring in
imaginary numbers

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Named Storms

Maura Way

Our dormant crabs skip
Nor'easters. Whole bushels
play hooky under estuaries.
Hunker us down, Mister
Savory.  Follow obelisked
bellies beneath silt and
sediment, only
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Meetup Ugly

Rikki Santer

Home from the produce section with scaly
hides of Jackfruit, the host had snubbed

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We Sleep However We Can

Michael Mingo

after Fernand Léger's painting Animated Landscape

Even in modern cities,
where the buildings overlap
with metal-tinted façades,
there's always
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The Boycott

Charles Rammelkamp

Even though my dad’s distant relative –
mine, too, of course – was buried 
in the only Jewish military cemetery 
in the
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Sarah, Reptile Wrangler

Jon Riccio

Puberty’s passé when a gila out-dappers
your scene, ball python flubbing
a bearded dragon’s take.

You should
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Prosthetic Limb Factory

Yvonne Amey

Marry that man mama says so I say soon as he gets outta prison mama, then mama goes and
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Thirties Movie

Richard Cecil

Father’s nasty-proud, Mother’s vain,
Sonny’s an alcoholic, and Sis is a flirt
who teases the chauffeur. She’s long engaged
to a weak-chinned
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How They Come Back to Us

Naomi Thiers

Those who have died—
their roots still spread,
their fires still spread, smoking underground.

They emerge as tree roots
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Insistent Animals

Melinda Wilson

Like livestock, we walk the steel maze
to our impersonal deaths, admit design

is a murderer; there
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To Climb Green Trees

Donald Illich

The sidewalk is sterilized white.
I could eat off its sunlight.
People creep along it like spiders

who could
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Barbara Daniels

Down to the rotting
forest floor, little shocks
of sun, panty-pink,

slip below crowns
of simple-leaved trees.

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People in the Sun, 1960

Diana Pinckney

Maybe I am not very human. What I wanted
was to paint sunlight on the side of a house.
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Low Tide

Miriam N. Kotzin

Elegant scraps of blue satin,
channels meander through meadows,
In the shadows, violet spills into pools.
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Patience at the Fence

Sheila E. Murphy

Always I overhear the overbearing neighbors fail to wince where I would fall back on my store of tiptoe.
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Human Song

Sid Gold

How strange to have come all this way
on the path toward perfect ignorance
& to have stopped here, a man
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Kim Roberts

The alchemist experiments
and repeats. See his bench:
alembics and crucibles,
tubes and mortars, bottles of
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Lush Life

Gregory Luce

It has to be Johnny Hartman
with Trane framing that
voice that flows smooth
and rich like a river
of barrel proof bourbon
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