by Naomi Shihab Nye Skin remembers how long the years grow when skin is not touched， a gray tunnel of singleness， feather lost from the tail of a bird...
by Jane Kenyon Yes， long shadows go out from the bales； and yes， the soul must part from the body： what else could it do？ The men sprawl near the bale...
by Carolyn Forché Horses were turned loose in the child's sorrow. Black and roan， cantering through snow. The way light fills the hand with...
by Joanne Kyger The grasses are light brown and ocean comes in long shimmering lines under the fleet from last night which dozes now in the early morn...
by Mark Ford Unwinding in a cavernous bodega he suddenly Burst out：——Barman， these tumblers empty themselves And yet I persist； I am wedge...
by Mary Ruefle Ann Galbraith loves Barry Soyers. Please pray for Lucius Fenn who suffers greatly whilst shaking hands. Bonny Polton loves a pug named ...
by Geri Doran My story begins at sea， in the bitter liquid. If not， it would begin in Florida， along I-95 in the circular drive of a circular， lime-gr...
by Adam Zagajewski Translated by Clare Cavanagh Between the computer， a pencil， and a typewriter half my day passes. One day it will be half a century...
by Joan Houlihan This is regret： or a ferret. Snuffling， stunted， a snout full of snow. As the end of day shuffles down the repentant scurry and swarm...
by Ben Doyle The tug on my arm but soon spread Perhaps now they could prove me there. I've been watching the sky closely & for some time， My h...