. . . I sleep early, risebefore daylight, waitwith patient stuporthe coming gray light. . . I move slowly,surreptitiously — ananimal hungry to find success in the hunt.In days of winter. . . I re…
Poetry
- Photo by ike / Adobe Stock Boat and ReactionYou were cooking in a dim sum restaurant it worried meIn dreams we react so strangelySometimes only these reactions matteras if there’s no connection…
- In the Beginning the Word worldlittoday · In The Beginning The Word by Rachel Tzvia Back 1 the word was unverbed unruled just birthed before bird on the altar or binding at hilltop not taken or gi…
- Background photo by Sved Oliver / Adobe Stock A Visitor from Hell A resident of Hell, I’ve been sitting here, Lord, for years. Do I not deserve to be a citizen? How is it that even in Hell the ho…
- Courtesy of University of New Mexico Press / Stock.adobe.com The Orphan (Isaac Luria) what is the matter? why do you always pursue me as an enemy?/ you set hidden traps for me?/ you catch me in m…
- Photo by trentinness / Adobe Stock Hunger Strike In the last watch of blood and memories, in the last neighing of empty stomachs, the human tree announces its prophecy overflowing with our bright…
- Photo by AVTG / Stock.adobe.com Translator’s note: Gizella Hervay (1934–1982) is sometimes referred to as the “Ingeborg Bachmann of Transylvania.” Mostly neglected by criticism durin…
- Adobe Stock Collage …
- Photo by Manikanth Halyal / Unsplash [Untitled] At the edge of the village a woman in a stupa ground millet. She whistled brazenly, calling the wind from the steppe to keep the chaff flying so he…
- bettysphotos / stock.adobe.com Writing Poetry on the Assembly Line Sitting in front of the machine in the workshop Exhaling like the moonlight. The soldering iron, screwdriver, motor, buzzer, the…
- for Naomi Shihab Nye Eid al-Fitr Shavuot Pentecost 2021 I want to follow Naomi to walk in her footsteps to gather with her only the gentle words like fallen w…
- Photo by Michel Banabila / Flickr Dinosaurs Each day, I drive beneath the shadow of leviathan bones, concrete muscles poured over rebar ribcage, fossils of future freeways. I walk through the un…
- Painting by Mehdi Qotbi (b. 1951, Rabat) / Courtesy of the artist Les homeless Les homeless ne vivent pas dans la rue Ils attendent que le ciel se jette sur eux chaque soir Un ciel chargé de tou…
- Illustration by fran_kie / Adobe Stock If I Must Die If I must die, you must live to tell my story to sell my things to buy a piece of cloth and some strings, (make it white with a long tail) so…
- Photo by Yousef Khanfar / www.yousefkhanfar.com. This olive tree in the Al Aqsa compound is believed to be 2,000 years old. I’m not interested in who suffered the most. I’m interested in…
- Photo by h heyerlein / Unsplash Field at Night On a night without you I descend into hell streetlamps become enemies Solitary I walk the salt mines my footprints are salt measuring fate salt like…
- Illustration courtesy of the author Julius D. Jones is a talented and thought-provoking artist who cares deeply about humanity, justice, and peace. Despite being incarcerated for more…
- Photo by said alamri / Unsplash Immigration, detention, unequal pay are modern words for slavery again. Dictatorship, borders. Any imposition of one’s will over another is a fo…
- Photo by Natalia Dimitris X (2007) / Flickr … And instead of despair before your own cracked skin instead of drowning in memories of him instead of hopelessness as you face the scorched plain of y…
- Photo by throgers / Flickr In what follows, I have created three heteronyms to render Pablo Neruda’s “Oda al actor” into English. They are presented in chronological order by date of birth. Their…
- Photo by NancieLee Free at last. Free at last. Thank God almighty, we’re free at last. “[O]n the first day of January, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, all pe…
- Photo by Lucas Calloch / Unsplash Japanese Garden I curve like a wooden bridge over a lake lit up by red carps I am hard and dry and barely adorned like a sand garden (though there are stones tha…
- Photo by Evelyn Paris / Unsplash National Anthem This is my room, it is called Iceland. A sea cable fastens it to Europe and to here and from here fly airplanes with their ink cartridges full of…
- Jewish Museum Berlin / Photo by Davie Dunn / Flickr Mommy, mommy repeated Tyre Nichols with his last breaths kicked by the boots of five policemen under his mother’s window in Memphis…
- Photo by Sofya Badkhen “We Live Without Touch” is a found poem. Composed of fourteen English translations of the first two lines of a famous 1933 poem by Osip Mandelstam, it is a timely medita…