Two Poems

Two Poems

And there you were, elegant and engaging, though not / with the people around you, more with the air of the room, / an intimacy between you that I sensed as I watched

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GMR

 

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Recasting the Sonnet: Review of Anna Maria Hong’s Age of Glass

The sonnet is inexhaustible. Magnetic, mesmerizing, bewitching, nearly every poet is drawn to the form at some point in their career, whether they long to write the perfect sonnet, the Shakespearean, Petrarchan or Spenserian, or they desire to break the form, queer it, manipulate it, celebrate its mutability; they want to discover what magic can happen within those fourteen lines.

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THE EFFECTS OF ALBRECHT DÜRER’S ETCHING ‘JEROME IN THE WILDERNESS’ ON ACUTE RESIDENTIAL, BEHAVIORAL HEALTH EMPLOYMENT

I found an F. I was at my job, with this kid, a boy, when I stepped on it: a cube, bevel-edged small; a bead: F. Like a lion thing, a thorn. Ouch, I coulda said, woulda, but this boy was watching, and I was wearing my sneaker shoes, their like-Faith cushiony soles. And the boy, no saint, like martyring Jerome’s Lion, he stopped walking when I did. He watched me lift my left foot. The cube thorned into my sneaker’s cushiony sole, like Faith. The boy’s mom is dying, so I Lioned for him: Ha.

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Green Mountains Review, based at Northern Vermont University, is an annual, award-winning literary magazine publishing poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction, literary essays, interviews, and book reviews by both well-known writers and promising newcomers.

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Every Job in the World

Every Job in the World

My friend Mark, home for the holidays a few years after college, told his mother I had started a new job. She brightened and offered her congratulations whenever he saw me again, then looked thoughtful for a moment as if recalling an old address, and asked, “How many jobs has Dave had?”

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Review of WOLF CENTOS by Simone Muench

Review of WOLF CENTOS by Simone Muench

Along the Iditarod trail, wolf pups steal wooden posts that were planted there to mark the way through the abrupt immenseness of Alaska. The posts become playthings; or they always already were toys to the pups, there for the taking. So Simone Muench approaches her Wolf Centos: She has collected lines and fragments from poems in the world, of 187 writers, and this book is her trove.

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#Birdie Sanders

#Birdie Sanders

For three voices simultaneously the hidden cost of a ravenous expansionism has called for frighten’d security measures following the attacks the gutted middle class citing unnamed sources has alleged a landslide forming somewhere in the deep middle and also a bird on...

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Face

Face

Kirk Nesset has no face. It’s not just that his page is erased; he has lost face in every way imaginable. He has resigned tenure. His passport is suspended. His computer is monitored. He will probably lose his dog—a mini-pomeranian he cradles in a sling. He may go to prison, where his cred will not be high. Kirk Nesset’s face dissolved the day the FBI raided his house, confiscating 500,000 files of child pornography. The children were named and categorized. Allegedly, Kirk Nesset confessed to preferring ages nine to twelve.

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