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Gary Young

Winter 2005

Three Poems

By Gary Young

Since dawn, the dove’s melancholic repetitions have haunted the air. Melodies from childhood, oh, please not that. Some memories I can feel in my body like a bruise. Mothers walk […]

Summer 1996

Four Poems

By Gary Young

1 My mother was a beautiful woman. She had been a beautiful child. She danced for the soldiers, then, and sang for them, and everyone clapped and cheered. When her […]

Winter 1991

Four Days: Earthquake

By Gary Young

An earthquake terrified us all. The house trembled, the walls moved. Now the boy spins, throws himself to the ground, and laughs at this. When his eyes are closed and […]