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THE DIFFICULTIES OF RHYME BY DAVID PUNTER

(The poet A.E Stallings claimed that ‘month’, ‘April’, ‘orange’ and ‘silver’ have no rhymes) It was the thirteenth of the month – the month concerned was April – and I was drinking crème de menthe and pondering on...

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THE OTHER SIDE BY DAVID PUNTER

It is a mere vault      you could do it one-handed           over an invisible fence And you would be      on the other side           surrounded by gold Gazing out at the stars       a body of plenitude           ridded of...

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THE SIX PROUD WALKERS BY DAVID PUNTER

I see them move across an alien land; their names are many and their gaze is straight. They walk because they have no place to stand. Behind them lies a closed and burning gate. They’ve seen their fill of leprosy and gall; their...

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WORD WASH BY DAVID PUNTER

I don’t know how it is but there’s all these words washing around inside me but when I sit down to write (and I can only do that on Tuesdays because of the doctors and all these other things you don’t know about but we’ll come...

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SOLDATI BY GIUSEPPE UNGARETTI

Bosco di Courton luglio 1918 Si sta come d’autunno sugli alberi le foglie   SOLDIERS, TRANSLATION BY WALLY SWIST Bosco di Courton luglio 1918 We are like the autumn as the leaves on the...

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SI PORTA BY GIUSEPPE UNGARETTI

Roma fine marzo 1918 Si porta l’infinita stanchezza dello sforzo occulto di questo principio che ogni anno scatena la terra   WE CARRY, TRANSLATION BY WALLY SWIST Roma fine marzo 1918 We carry an infinite weariness of...

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GIUGNO BY GIUSEPPE UNGARETTI

Campolongo il 5 luglio 1917 Quando mi morira questa notte e come un altro potro guardarla e mi addormentero al fruscio delle onde che finiscono di avvoltolarsi alla cinta di gaggie della mia casa Quajdo mi risvegliero nel tuo...

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I FIUMI BY GIUSEPPE UNGARETTI

Cotici il 16 agosto 1916 Mi tengo a quest’albero mutilato abbandonati in questa dolina chehaillangjuore di un circo prima o dopo lo spettacolo e guardo il passaggio aquieto delle nuvole sulla luna Stamani mi sono disteso in...

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CHILDREN AT PLAY BY VICTORIA TWOMEY

children of the storm know how to monitor the silence between the claps of thunder for meaning for intent how to feel for oncoming lightening how to hide behind the shelter of false faces swallow the shadows drink down the rain...

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LOST DOGS BY JAMES CARNS

I’ve cried so many times for dogs I’ve lost. Their lives so very short, and mine so long. But now I have a pack of them at heel. They follow me, in step with my remembering, each one his own, but all a product of myself, my...

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