Home Poetry - Year II - Number 8 - July 2017

Poetry - Year II - Number 8 - July 2017

    WHO AM I By Emily Eigenheer

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    WHO AM IBy Emily Eigenheer I Am My Own Army My name is not singular,It is not a single entity,Rather a collection of names that have...

    FISHING LOCK NESS By Sam James

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    FISHING LOCK NESSBy Samuel W. James  Fishing Loch Ness the stones are cool grey or hairy brown;the water barely darkens themfor yards and yards out

    SACRIFICE By Georgia Eugenides

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        SACRIFICEBy Georgia Eugenides    THE SUMMER I NEVER HADin the morningi search for myself everywhere,under ivory sheets that smell of cinnamon, between porcelain jarson the highest kitchen shelf and among blue, crossed outpoems in...

    THE WIDOW’S SON By Sandra Kolankiewicz

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    THE WIDOW’S SONBy Sandra Kolankiewicz  Aunt Ann Even nurses feared her swollen body.The neighbors brought balloonsand left quickly.Each night her husband strolled through the automatic doors,slapping...

    NOW I SEE, By Mignon Ariel King

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    NOW I SEEBy Mignon Ariel King Chifforobe Daddy had one, so when its three tones of art-deco woodcreaked open on tiny black hinges to emit a...

    MARKO POGACAR’S POETRY Translated by Andrea Jurjevic

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    Poetry by MARKO POGACARTranslated by Andrea Jurjevic MESNI ROMEO Stajao sam na prozoru golih prsa, vikaovolim ćufte, najviše volim ćufte, dolje je far kaoflak prste kada...

    (DIS)AMBIGUATION By Sarah Kohrs

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    (DIS)AMBIGUATION By Sarah Kohrs (DIS)AMBIGUATION It began with                   the forgetting.Sunlight sparked              off keysDangling eye-level           near the door;

    HALF IRON, HALF OAK By Simon Perchik

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    HALF IRON, HALF OAKBy Simon Perchik  *Half iron, half oak, the bedall night honed on what went wrong–it’s an axe, striking upside down though you sleep...

    POEMAS DE MICHAEL SPRING Traduzido por Maria João Marques

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    POEMAS DE MICHAEL SPRINGTraduzido por Maria João Marques surrealista no tempo não há mais árvorespara arrancar do seu corpo de cada buraco espreita...

    ONE WEEK DAY WHILE WALKING By Jeremy Gadd

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    ONE WEEK DAYWHILE WALKING By Jeremy Gadd    One week day while walking downWattle Street, I heard a cry thatbrought me to a halt in mid-stridelike a prisoner shackled to a wall,and my heart missed...