Home Poetry - Year II - Number 8 - July 2017

Poetry - Year II - Number 8 - July 2017

    THE PUSH By Clay Reed

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    THE PUSHBy Clay Reed DynamicAfter Denise Duhamel Having a child changes a relationship,at least that’s what our friends with childrenhave told us several times.“It changes the dynamic!” they say,acting as if they are letting us inon...

    THE PROPAGATION By Mark Young

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    THE PROPAGATIONBy Mark Young The Mackerel Fish school whenthe moon is out. Be-fore. Separate. Atvarious levels withdisparate meanings.States of grace. Wait-ing for the cast of lightacross the surface of the water. On app-earance drawn to it.Coalesce, luminescent.In the...

    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 a beat,...

    HOMAGE TO ORWELL By Tomas Sanchez Hidalgo

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    HOMAGE TO ORWELLBy Tomas Sanchez Hidalgo Homage to Orwell,           surrounded by slot machines,in the main hall(perhaps the Tanjiers?)by the penultimateof our national heroes,perfect for adults and children,proud to bethe gear lever in Europe,respecting the margin for...

    LIVE LIFE BECAUSE By Samantha Kriney

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    LIVE LIFE BECAUSEBy Samantha Kriney You Were the Start, the Peace, My First Years                                    --after Barry White My feet loved the touch of my mother’s womb until thefirst note you sung to teach me how to controlmy...

    WITH HER By Judah Cricelli

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    WITH HERBy Judah Cricelli  Three is few,One is two, Her crease, and hue,The halogen flickers when I amWith her.Drips with dew,Mud-freckled shoe,Scuffed knees, hers too, The playground goes silent when I am With her. Carpet is soft, An ocean of...

    A SIMPLE PROPOSITION By Evyn McGraw

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    A SIMPLE PROPOSITIONBy Evyn McGraw  WakeWith twisting muscles I whippedMy body into shape,I ran like a machine,Pumping down the pavement through the dead winter wood,When water’s whisper hissedMy name. The call led me off the path,Into...

    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 my notebooki...

    BREATHING By Bryan McCormack

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    BREATHINGBy Bryan McCormack    BreathingThe father’s breathing steadiedto a light,sputtering hum.Outside his door, the sonlistened carefully, ingesting the hum’svibrations, producing another sputterin his eardrums.It was like this before, when the son was a boy,and it continues...

    SERGEY CHERNYSHEV’S POETRY Translated by Boris Kokotov

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    Poetry by SERGEY CHERNYSHEVTranslated by Boris Kokotov  Sound Flesh flickers: smoke, a man,an anthill. Sound, blunt and hollow,still palpitates  inside the frozen headand wags its tail -- green, red, and yellow. It’s empty. With a wanton tonguehanging...