Winter 2011 • Vol. XXXIII No. 1 Poetry |

Sere World

And his torso curls, contracting from the rod of his outstretched arms: as in Letter to the World, as in certain loneliest intervals in Merce. Some of us persist and see the earth itself as allegory, Arden's forest clearcut now; but rolling an earth-ball on sere grass highways may be all we can do to make a point about resources. Look, pollination calls from hand to mouth to the air; and a young man's body carves a vessel for the change. I'm receiving crossed bulletins from two new fathers: either parenthood's a program that boots up when baby crowns, or somehow you're left wondering—how do I live? What, in fact, does all this have to do with happiness? on the photography of Robert and Shana ParkeHarrison

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Christina Pugh's most recent book of poems is Stardust Media (University of Massachusetts Press, 2020), winner of the Juniper Prize for Poetry. A former Guggenheim fellow, she teaches at the University of Illinois at Chicago.

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Desert

By Adonis, translated by Khaled Mattawa

And his torso curls, contracting from the rod of his outstretched arms: as in Letter to the World, as in certain loneliest intervals in Merce. Some of us persist and […]

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