Le Thérapeute

Can something be a portrait if it hasn’t got a face? The straw-hatted man of indeterminate age wears threadbare blue pants and a birdcage-ribcage, well-used black shoes on his resting feet. Loulou the Pomeranian was there when the master let

The Putting in Bins

All walls are an ecology whose space could feed
a century. We believe in this theory and that love
is for making children, an instant without hands
that requires the defeat of the tiniest brown dog
stalking the neighborhoods of …

The Riptide

Some years ago in San Diego a strong riptide took a group of us far from the shore, & my husband was part of that group—strangers the rest. Our increasing distance was innocent at first, but then it began to …

This Side Up

For your purposes the machine inside
is a woman. She has been programmed to carry

but never initiate conversation. She comes equipped
with endless knowledge, from gapping spark plugs

to the Maxixe’s lifted kick, and can recite Jesus’ forty-six
parables, …

Under Belvidere Mountain

Uncle Joe Stalin visited Vermont, July of ’34—
same month and year Federico Garcia Lorca was in Eden Mills; Lorca took two days

to sober up from a long rollicking train ride to Montpelier where Stalin
disembarked three days before:



Jenni B. Baker is the founder and editor-in-chief of The Found Poetry Review. Her poetry appears or is forthcoming in DIAGRAM, Washington Square, Lunch Ticket, BOAAT, Quarterly West, and Whiskey Island. Her Oulipo-generated

Berlin Wall

Sunday morning
I go in a drizzle
to Check Point Charlie
and peer over the barbed wire
someone points across it
toward a building where his brother
slid home on a rope of knotted bedsheets

my turn:
border guards check …