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Mariana Berenice Bredow Vargas (translated from the Spanish by Forrest Gander)
we barely know, who hardly matter to us, words that only hide us from sorrow, forgive me                for saying so, but facing death, there’s just no place                              for dissimulation, and I can’t imagine what...

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tatiana nascimento (translated from the Portuguese by Natália Affonso)
planning the end of the world, to me, is an Afro-diasporic longing for night becoming day on the roof of your mouth, word apocalypse.

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Robert Wood Lynn
memory for continuing to be the past with a leak in it somehow I love you a little better every day surprised by it each morning the way I am always surprised by how goats make the sound of drunks making goat noises

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Kim Hyesoon (translated from the Korean by Don Mee Choi)
The inside is life and the outside is death Life is a sealed bag I think that the guardrail bed is flying away...

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M. L. Smoker
All that was left were the springtime faces of mountains, gazing down, their last patches of snow, luminous. I dreamed of becoming snow melt, gliding down the slope of history and into the valley. With the promise, an assurance, that there is always a way to become bird, tree, water again.

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But this poem is not just about loss. It is a recognition as well of what can happen when we press ourselves to the earth, feel the pulses of energy, and realize our stories remain tethered. As Indigenous peoples, our ancestors are now a part of that land — it is where our languages, oral traditions, songs and ways of being have been formed, and we must find ways to carry on this necessary kinship. It is vital to us all.

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Marie-Andrée Gill (translated from the French by Kristen Renee Miller)
if you are looking for me, I am home or somewhere on Nitassinan; all my doors and windows are open.        I’m heating the outdoors.

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Sasha taqʷšəblu LaPointe
for me to be a real Indian like the ones in the movies I was going to need to buy a pony...

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Michael Farrell
He lived before there was an air index He chopped up Latin like a pickled vegetable When he walked under a bird they stopped singing like a light...

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