Photo: Public Domain Pictures/Pixabay
Empty Trains
The mornings departand arrive without you.Empty trains.Your spirit flashes now and thenon the hem of a sky foundering in light.Sentences fog the ste…
Poetry
The cemetery as seen en route to Landes, Canappeville, Eure, France. Photo by Chantal Bizzini Author’s note: With this somewhat old-fashioned title, I actually intended to talk about the…
for Bud ¡Sí, es azul, tiene que ser azul! – José Gorostiza I can’t free myself from my boredomalways completing circlesswallowing myselflike the serpentswallows its tail.I’…
photo: Jason Trbovich/flickr Poetry was created to solve family problems Let me just say:this is why poetry was createdto solve family problems when neededand sometimes to wash the dishes and polish…
Piburger Lake, Austria. Paul Gilmore/Unsplash To an ordinary manWho couldn’t care lessAbout disasters befalling him,To some modest happinessThat this man finds in a bar in wintertimeWithout a fight,T…
photo: palon youth/unsplash We Learned to Pronounce Brooklyn in the Movies we learned to pronounce brooklyn in the moviesto undress in the backseats of carsto await chance with a roll of the dice we…
Photo: Meriç Dağlı/Unsplash Nomenclatures II Those which we are givenin the brink of sorrow,or joy – or both; those marked on our foreheadsthe curse of a generation,or more, marked on our abdomensbi…
Winter 97, by Maia Cruz Palileo Most nights, he takes his coffee black, rewindsAnd plays the slasher films he’s seen a dozenTimes, smokes packs of menthol cigarettesTo stay awake, and catche…
Burdock Needlepoint, 2017, by Janna Añonuevo Langholz. Diaspora Sonnet 11 In absence of blackbirds I give you a diamond-studded sky. In absence of heat, let there be a…
Lacuna (7), 2017 by Sara Jimenez New Patient Intake Form In the beginning, there was a window I pried the blinds to make lightof my losses I fished my hands into and sh…
Veils, by Maia Cruz Palileo Here lies Macario “Mac-Attack” Dacanay, 53, who went into cardiac arrest after winning the chicharrón-eating contest. Don’t blame the pig. Here lies Prudencio A…
illustration: francis estrada [Number1Dream] A wall diademed with broken glass can tear the skinof anyone who dares to scale the wall Hot box for a house, a tinderbox of electric fans …
Moonrise After Adams, 2016, oil, acrylic, interior design magazines, nature calendars, Pioneer Supermarket bags, plastic tablecloth, linoleum, and gift wrap on wood, by Camille Hoffman…
photo: chezbeate/pixabay Our dream paths crossand come to nothingburied in heretic fog Impenetrable silenceburns in your eyes Even speakingyo…
photo : randi ward The first time I saw Aleksandur Kristiansen in personWas at the dance hall in the Tórshavn TheatreAt the time I was convinced that poets were some sort of demigodsThat maybe they t…
photo: nathalie jolie/unsplash Two Small Pomegranates If you want a garden to grow lookinside a pomegranate look long look deepat the core there’s a school and a blue girlthey’re a g…
photo: hayley madden The Aunt vanished one autumn. Left the house,the children, the Uncle with his twitching beard.If I wanted her, I searched in photographs:the Aunt, sublime in a Pucci wedding dre…
photo: pixabay Dastgah A wandering musician from afararrives on foot, dusty with the journey,and quietly performs while strollingthe strange city, steps lightly alonethrough crowded…
above Liu Xia prepared her goodbye for her husband, Nobel Prize winner Liu Xiaobo (1955–2017), in a poem and a series of photographs titled The Lonely Planets (courtesy of the author). For m…
[untitled] Vacations in the ice, the London Manifestotransformed into a heap of stupiditiesan ultimatum for the scum, the day moon. Inertia: from theclean shoreto the dirty…
Photo by Eleni Kefala for G. D. It was much easier to tell why it was called the golden grotto than to get into it. . . . It appears to have been used as a cemetery, for rows of tombs have be…
Author note: These poems are part of a longer sequence that Golan and I collaborated on for my new collection, Footnotes in the Order of Disappearance. All the poems are ba…
God Is Burning Through an open wound in God’s left side,springtime enters into the world,sticky, green, with a taste of iron.That’s not the wound I hurt from. There’s a dull pain…
[untitled] Dear Lombard fog maternal densesix in the morning, winter,espresso machines are steamingin the first bars to open in the square.The city of gravestones is quiet, each has a name:under the…
[1] feichi lali mülen ñi nontual katrütuleufün feichi lali mülen ñi nontual katrütuleufünchem trewa ngiyulaenew, nielan trewatrongli trewa nümüalu…
