Photo by Sergey Nikolaev
“Pale blue and a flag inside, can’t see which one . . .”
Pale blue and a flag inside, can’t see which one.
Living people, two, chase…
Poetry
Victoria Lomasko, from the graphic reportage A Generational Battle (2021), from the book La última artista soviética (Barcelona: Godall edicions, 2022) / Courtesy of the artist…
Landscape at the Third Stage of Grief by Alexandra Lytton Regalado I This year my knees are having a hard kneel. This candle’s fire has two hard eyes.…
Vitoria Correia and Nathaniel Tylor in Black and Blues / Jordan Nicks, director of photography / Courtesy of the Flight Agency Author’s note: “Chasing Light” serve…
At the said-to-be bottomless pond at the sand pit, the raft we discovered was a heavy barn door, maybe ten feet by twelve, halfway in, halfway out of the water where others had left it, probabl…
Photo by Gavyn Redd Baay Baay, sunu baay bi Baay dundal Na sa tur sell Na sa nguur dëgër Ndax sag dundu am na ñjariñ Baay dundal yàgg fi te wér Lo nekk baay Yàllaa nay jàmm Baay, sunu…
Photo by Paul Domenick / Flickr This shadowed morning you write thought and read the garden You readjust the graded papers in your briefcase and wait for the enemies of knowledg…
Photo by Persis Karim Shadow and Light was instigated by San Francisco Bay Area poet and activist Beau Beausoleil as part of a recent ancillary project of Al-Mutanabbi Street Starts…
Oregon Trail Ruts State Historic Site. On my right metatarsus you can see the swale caused by wet wagon wheels coming out of the Big Blue River, heaving their sodden burdens over the top…
In your living room was a bone-colored piano. In boredom we pressed a key. We even sang. Do you remember? You know, just so something fills your rented apartment in Buda, and recovers its m…
Jorge Tacla, Identidad Oculta 25 (2013), oil and marble powder on canvas, 64 x 78 in. / Copyright by Jorge Tacla Translator’s note: The title of Carlos Soto-Román’s 11…
Art Courtesy of Mapuche artist Eduardo Rapimán Marín Ül of Catrileo Matías Catrileo Quezada was killed at point-blank range on January 3, 2008, in the village of Yeupeco, commune of Vilc…
A Curse May you be eaten by Paradise! was Father Kleopa’s curse on me. Steep was the ground from his skete to the foot of the hill where I stood. The curses our people use have always b…
worldlittoday · Ezili Şiir by Cengiz Sinan Çelik outside the wind gently flips its hair moving toward the vastness of the blue in sky-abyss outside the water in…
Only I never came back I was not going to be long —W. S. Merwin 1 I live where Lady Gaga files her taxes where the police do as they please where this paleface multi…
Tonight she asks for enchiladas, and my sister suggests pizza. I think they must want to die. I’m ashamed to feel this. I roll the shade of blame down the living room wall, screening their lives…
The girls who were talking in the corner not long ago are just now starting to get up (grabbing jackets from the coatrack) taking up their umbrellas again and a forgotten wallet that the tallest…
Anna 1 “Now I know how faces disappear, how terror nests under eyelids,” wrote Anna, Anna Akhmatova. Can you understand such suffering? While I read her, I lie stiff on the bed. She,…
Photo by Pop & Zebra on Unsplash In your white vest and blue flip-flops, you wandered about in the fierce sun, a can of black paint in your hand. We read your family history on lamp-po…
Andrew Wyeth, Cranberries (1966), Collotype, 45.7 x 30.5 cm When I pushed the door there was no one in the room. In the background, an open window and a disquieting afternoon ligh…
Wassily Kandinsky, Composition #218 (Two Ovals) (1919), Oil on Canvas, 107 × 89 cm, Saint Petersburg, The Russian Museum I glimpsed the oases of childhood with gingerbread houses and…
Workshop of Rembrandt van Rijn, Young Woman at an Open Half-Door (1645), oil on canvas, 102.5 x 85.1 cm, Mr. and Mrs. Martin A. Ryerson Collection, The Art Institute of Chicago / CC0 Pub…
Ghislaine Lejard, l’ombre (2020), 6.5 x 7.5 cm, torn paper glued on cardboard / Reproduced by permission of the artist I tame shadows each day I descend further into their world an…
“I Have Nothing but Exhaustion the Size of a Forest” after Sirkka Turkka I have nothing but exhaustion the size of my daughter’s pupils, when she brings her face close to…
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash The Bread of Letters I Who will blame the trees when they loose their leaves? who will accuse the sea of abandoning shells on the sand…
