Three Po-Proses by Kim Hyesoon, translated from Korean by Jack Jung
We question and answer to be nearer to “poetry.” / Literature is inherently unreal. / Poetry lies against the conventional use of language and / Fiction lies against the conventional use of reality. / Perhaps, a writer is someone who knows that after we disappear, what will remain is our lies... Read More
Excerpt from The only name we can call it now is not its only name by Valerie Hsiung
We are swimming and smiling with fate, that is if we could, if we could move beyond the barrier which keeps us practically mute and immobile. Otherwise, it may be conceived as akin to something that resides be-tween negligence and happenstance, between dubious absence and absentmindedness, that is what is residual... Read More
Three Prose Poems by Theodore Worozbyt
As dark memories say to themselves, the only flower to grow now and then is nasturtiums, little elephant’s ears. My grandmother opened her eye and sang the bitter batter butter song. Under the case the pillow was striped in indigo. And then a kiss like a windflower came and had a final note written on... Read More
Excerpt from No Material by Losarc Raal
Times will change the cobalt heaven tongues. I walk people into water past the hippo lights. Black model railroad track. Doctor of the upper wake plea. My heart is hollow; my skin waives tears... Read More
Three Prose Poems by Marc Vincenz
Unreclined at the peninsula’s end, a mile from the city where your feet become the night unveiling—too far to hear of the siege of cicadas where Sister’s coat lies perched against the dark... Read More
Three Prose Poems by Lee Min-ha, translated from Korean by Jein Han
m is for my name, h is for your name my name, blue-backed snare, sharp oxygen, gasping for air I went to lustrous june’s fleshmarket to sell the apricot-colored uvula caught in my throat... Read More
Winter Cinemas by Emmalea Russo
A cloud streams through dirt detergent haunted jewels as Marguerite Duras watches a fly die... Read More
Five Poems by Adam Day
Remembrances almost live,” all history at once,” itself alienated from cause effect.” Makes several centuries “simultaneously present,” while revealing a causal narrative in a sequence of construction... Read More
Now Spring, Now Fall by Bonnie Chau
Antelope shows me something handmade, but all I see are words that seem pulled from my own mind... Read More
Two Prose Poems by Christine Scanlon
if I cut this way, you circle in two. it hurts, the way lines are drawn. with color of dissent. if you have forgotten, it’s as if you break apart from being. retreat to your hym(n) section. then we parry on... Read More