The Key by Gary Duehr
In the middle of the night, I heard a long screech outside like a fingernail digging into a...
Read MorePosted by admin | Jan 18, 2025 | Blog, Hand Picked
In the middle of the night, I heard a long screech outside like a fingernail digging into a...
Read MorePosted by admin | Jan 15, 2025 | Hand Picked, Poetry
I come from a family where the men die early, which is to say I was raised by women. My childhood...
Read MorePosted by admin | Jan 8, 2025 | Hand Picked, Poetry
My disappearing darling, you sail with an anchorless boat, bolting from the dockyard as soon as...
Read MorePosted by admin | Jan 4, 2025 | Hand Picked, Poetry
He fell like rain on my scaled ribs; weight of night, a canopying cove....
Read MorePosted by admin | Dec 13, 2024 | Hand Picked, Prose
Would you agree, Afshan, that all poetry is an act of “translation” – that Latinate variant...
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