Folding a Five-Cornered Star So the Corners Meet

By Li-Young Lee Poetry

This sadness I feel tonight is not my sadness. Maybe it’s my father’s. For having never been prized by his father. For having never profited by his son. This loneliness is Nobody’s. Nobody’s lonely because Nobody was never born and will never die. This gloom is Someone Else’s. Someone Else is gloomy because he’s always…

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The Anxiety Offices

By Lisa Russ Spaar Poetry

1. Vespers I wake from my insomnia into this vanishing, gaze & its lust, the world blue too. I do not grieve, but am infected by your absence, amber canto corseted by black ash. When I remember to pray, it is an old conversation: compromise, silence— opalescence conscripted by these closing silks, starlings with their…

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No Counting Sheep without Feeding Them, Too

By Stephen Cushman Poetry

Sleeping pill dependence may prompt referral to laboratory overnights (Polysomnography, would you look good on me, electrodes attached?) and wee-hour waking may be a sign of depression, it says, but what could depress when neither son of Zebedee needed hypnotics, white ones like these approved by the Air Force in support of mission readiness, to…

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