by Jim Simmerman
From the point of view of the pocket,
the eight ball won’t go.
From the point of view of the wall,
there are too many hang-ups,
attachments. . . .
by Alice Friman
plasters the leaves to the ground
in layers, wetting them down
for pliability then for packing.
by Albert Goldbarth
Once Picasso told me—on an afternoon of bitter, busy snow
in light so confident, so boastful of its home
in the sun, you’d think we would be sweltering,
and so his observation made sense—that everything
and everyone is as faceted as a cubist day at the beach.
by Bob Hicok
They spit too much in baseball, I can’t watch,
I don’t like spitting, we should be elegant,
sling garbage in suits, not throw balls
at each other’s heads and spit, not slide
spikes high and spit, are these men drowning?
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