POETRY GARLIC John Martone Your forearm-long brown leaves flop and I dig you up, roots and all and all in all vellum skinned knuckle bulb little fist belonging in my hand, take me...
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POETRY [YOU — FERNS] John Martone You—ferns under the window ferns under the pine, I planted the pines, then you, and put in a window, my great work of silence and shade. And now you don’t...
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POETRY GLOBUS CRUCIGER John Martone Outside the cinder block screen past fig tree and laurel shade hydrangeas turn whiter than handkerchiefs and blouses on the line than azaleas and snowdrops...
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