Home Poetry - Year III - Number 9 - Volume Two - September 2017

Poetry - Year III - Number 9 - Volume Two - September 2017

    WHAT WAS THAT CITY by Mary Crow

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    WHAT WAS THAT CITYBy Mary Crow       WHAT WAS THAT CITY―after Cavafy What city tangled me in its sandy roots,led me into desert, where I gasped at vastness and vacancy, pyramids fringingmiles of nothing growing, a void I vanished...

    MORE by Chris Fields

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    MOREBy Christopher Fields      More                                                                                                             Why seek anything morethan a life that slips frictionlessly by?I want more.  I want a life that lashes;I want a life that grinds and scrapes,that prunes away weak piecesexposing lurid truths beneath.I...

    BALM by Gale Acuff

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    BALMBy Gale Acuff Balm After Sunday School I came home to sinagain, my folks smoking in the kitchenand gulping Yuban and not even dressedand Father unshaven and dishes inthe sink for me to wash later and...

    PLATONIC LOVE by Ray Fenech

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    PLATONIC LOVEBy Raymond Fenech This Will Never happen to me Syndrome There is Christmas, Easter and Valentine but also depressing advertisements about cancer. Outside - the slime and sleet - endless winter. Never before had I...

    ICE CREAM TRUCK by Alicia Cole

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         ICE CREAM TRUCKBy Alicia Cole     Ice Cream TruckThe cone is always the cone.The rhyme scheme, the metric oomph:these hold the dripping words.They're always melting.  The sonnet,the sapphic, the prose poem, the cento.Melting into the readers'...

    INDIAN POINT by Jack Brown

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    INDIAN POINTBy Jack Brown After planting purple spider wortaround the tombstone of the old soldierin the cemetery at the end of the roadwe scuttle from ridge to ridge.A country Docand a visitor from New York. May...

    YOUR SUNDAY BEST by Scott Laudati

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    YOUR SUNDAY BESTBy Scott Laudati Your Sunday Best i can see girls at barstoolsready again to push their doubtsdown past the breakers,past spilled pints and menthat wouldn’t carry them on their backslike their fathers.there are cities...

    ROMANCE OF THE MASK by Frederick Pollack

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    ROMANCE OF THE MASKBy Frederick Pollack  Kin By the late seventeenth century he isat least possible, crying “Bring outyour dead” and breaking intohouses where the distinctionis moot; where the doctorswith great beaked masks full of posieshave...

    TRACK 18 by Benjamin Schmitt

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    TRACK 18By Benjamin Schmitt Track 18 Sophie bears me to ill willshe cannot barethe weight of her own heartshe-bears have robbed herwith their raw fish breathand den scentsof the inquisitive breezethat once scatteredorganized leaf piles of...

    WALKING by Patrick Hurley

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    WALKING…selectionsBy Patrick Hurley #categories collapse in upon themselvesstrange instruments reshapethe structure of space random interpretations of irregularitywill hold meaning ifone seeks it vague constructions are part of theadditive art but who shaves awaysuperfluous matter? #one night in springjupiter...