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Create in Me a Clean Heart O God

By Leslie Williams Poetry

The thing I did for sorrow was silence. The thing I did for sorrow, the thing I did, the silence. I thought when replacing the pillow under the sleeping girl’s head it’s been a while since kindness. When my mother was sick I didn’t go I rolled over in my own bed I thought she…

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Greater Solitude

By Cintio Vitier Poetry

My words verge on silence like great birds that disappear into the early evening: their strenuous white wings carry off the intense sweetness of dusk, visible then in starlight. My words turn toward the night with no look back at what is lost or won, or what is missing, like those workers, who, utterly fatigued…

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You Enter That Light

By Cintio Vitier Poetry

You enter that light which binds night and day, that swirling mist of pain, fortunate pain, which has no need to be seen. It shimmers on the ever-present, ever- inactual shore. Simple worker, like those who build men’s houses— Breathe life into the whirlwind where the dead shall find you, dear friends absorbed in daylight.…

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Postscript

By Lise Goett Poetry

If you come to this cold bowl with ladle in the moonlight and wish to strip the old self away, on a raw, clear night, some time go out alone, toward the end of the year, on a solitary road, limned by igneous fires, lit micas of snow, until you reach a pasture of cattle…

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Transfers

By Ilana M. Blumberg Essay

DON’T FORGET YOUR TRANSFER,” my grandmother said. From 1989, she said this to me for ten years. It took two buses to get from the West Side, where I studied and lived, to the East Side, where she had lived her entire life, first on its lower end and now, in her eighties, its upper…

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