Photo by Pink Sherbet Photography All my being is a dark verse that repeats you to the dawn of unfading flowering and growth. I conjured you in my poem with a sigh and grafted you to water, fire,…
Poetry
-
-
Photo by ~dgies/FlickrBilingual recordings by the author and Lyn Coffin9Death is when the heart does not beat and the clock beats. Love is when the heart beats and the clock…
- [Click here to read the lyrics in Farsi.] The whole of my being is a dark verse of Scripture which in its repeated recitations will take you away to the dawn of eternal buddings and bloomings.I…
-
Misrak Terefe (far right) with fellow Ethiopian performance poets.This says the meaning of country is sitting in the balance.In order to say, to be able to see,the balance, the lead…
-
For a group of art performances in July 2013 called Wax and Gold organized by the Netsa Art Village, visual artist Mulugeta Gebrekidan presented “Invading Samsung Square” to protest the corpo…
-
for Mia CoutoDream, Dream, …
-
Photo by Brent Pearson/FlickrNegative SpaceII was born on a Tuesday in April.I didn’t cry. Not because I was stunned. I wasn’t even mad.I was the lucky egg, trained for gratitudeinside the belly for n…
-
Photo: Kristina Sheppard/FlickrA Young Horse I’ve never figured out what world I live in.I rode on a horse as young and as happy as I.When he galloped I could feel his heartbeatAgainst my thighsA…
-
Photo by Alberto VarelaBio How unlike a dead fish a live fish is – Maxine Hong KingstonKiedy byłam rybąKosmos jak zawsz…
-
Todd Stewart, “Fence Line, Tule Lake Relocation Center, 2001,” from Placing Memory: A Photographic Exploration of Japanese American Internment (University of Oklahoma Press, 2008).Eating Nood…
-
The author reading at the Gogol House Museum in Moscow, February 2014. Photo © Anna Dikareva.Listen to videotaped recordings of both Russian originals in the following clip (4:00-10:05).…
-
Swallows. Photo by Kenneth Cole Schneider/FlickrThe SwallowsG. Mend-Ooyo Returning from afar, swallows in flocksEmbrace the tales of the gentle, tranquil steppe.The waters of ete…
-
Photo by Katerina Cheiladaki Translator’s note: Arvanitika, or Arberishte as it is called in the Corinthian mountain villages, is one of the many languages in the world facin…
-
Photo by Marjan Lazarevski Jesucristo’is Ja’ Ñäjktyäj’ya Äj’ Tzumama’is Kyionuksku’yÄj’ tzumama’is ja’ myuspäkä’ kastiya’orenatzu’ jyambä’ä ngyomis’kyionukskutyamnatzu’ xaä’ tumä nabdzu’jya…
-
The Gardener I learned to plant trees with my grandfather.“The willows need more water than you, Andrés,and their rootsin the beginning aren’tvery deep.Sometimes they grow so fastand sometim…
-
Author note: These flash semi-témoignages or reportages are inspired by stories people told me It began as…
-
How tenderly the stream flowsamong the numberless blossomswhose heads dip and weavein the tepid east wind, how warmthe insect tune, and multitudethe ripe green grasses, rank on rankthrough which…
- WishesWish I could still laugh with the lotusOn the bank of the Nile Take off my clothes And dive into the Zambezi Join spirit dancersIn the middle of the GangesRomp with…
-
Photo by GwagaLittle Men Animals no longer speakDrums refuse to beatTanganyika slowly retreats From her shoresBloodied by the nightmare of menWhose pettiness piercesThe deep slumber of the a…
-
Photo by Pieter Stockmans“Syrian refugees go about their business in a refugee camp in Mafraq, Jordan . . .” Ropes on poles, jeans & shirt…
-
Translators’ NoteJuan Hernández Ramírez describes both Nahuatl and Spanish as mirrors for his writing: “sirven de espejo, kewak se teskatl.” He does not write solely in one l…
-
Photo by Kables/FlickrTheir language rolls out, soft carpet in front of them.Strolling slowly beneath trees, men in white shirts, belts, baggy trousers,women in scarves,glinting cigaret…
- Clay Tablet Bearing the World’s First AlphabetThat had comemuch later –After everythingalready had happened –Without witnessthe first stammeredwordthis atomic flashforevercontaminatingthe oblivious cr…
- The first time I saw your father,I stared back into the pool at your reflectionwhile he waded through,the water moving in gentle circles away from us.The first time, I thought it was the Nilewe’d dipp…
- IBefore what happened happened,I mean, before the towers became a stairway to the dayof reckoning, and the world split into twocamps, water and sand,I used to wish that I’d be among the poetswho would…