Everyone is culpable.Everyone has slung epithets,repeated rumors,stoked resentment,had murderous thoughts.Wars don’t start without hatred,without dehumanization,without a collective fever.Everyone’s participation is required,active or passive,for the war machineto...

Each kiss was real once. It lodged in the throat,flung out of a car. It sunk with a pink sun, rose on damp mornings. It dropped its bikenear the high school track and ran instead in insufficient shoes that left blisters.It encouraged someone who never had a chance....

Excuse me, she said, can you help me buy some sanitary products?

David Dodd Lee’s The Bay dazzles with clarity, humor, and lyric depth—poems of swine, goldfinches, memory, ads, and aging that remind us to notice everything.

Loose pages swirled across the street. Strangers lunged, gathered, paused—only to find the manuscript wasn’t treasure at all, just forgotten class notes, wind-scattered and unwanted.

In you, an east facing window / In you, the free condom I won’t use

I craft an eclipse camera with solar lens / Chasing the moon …