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Two Poems
Hoa Nguyen
‘I wrote ‘valley’ when I meant ‘longing’ / Your laugh a river A trout kind of green.’
Post-Elegy
Wayne Miller
‘After the plane went down, / the cars sat for weeks in long-term parking. / Then, one by one, they began to disappear / from among the cars of the living.’
Waterloo East
Lorraine Mariner
‘On one of those mornings / when I felt like resigning / from my life.’
A Meeting of Minds with Henry David Thoreau
Andrew Motion
‘What am I doing here more than looking – / which I would stop / only to help things through their vanishing’
A Spell For Going Safely Forth By Day
Jynne Martin
‘The hunter pushes a bullet beneath his tongue to fix his aim, / or is it to stave off his thirst?
Biographical Detail
Ángel González Muñiz
‘The cockroaches in my house complain because I read at night’.
I had wondered about the signs of burning
John Kinsella
‘None of it made sense. The house shows / no signs – the old core of the house as it is now – / of fire, of giving up the ghost.’
The Burning of the Rocks
John Kinsella
‘What locked-away / state of unawareness, other life form, / brings desire to combust / out of rock exposed to flame’
Three Prose Poems
Sharmistha Mohanty
‘And the evening wind from over the sea makes that threadbare self billow like a tattered sail, all that resisted it now become the air on which it rises.’