Two Poems by Krystal Languell
I shook out my reading material / asked if it was okay to be seated / then sat comfortably / maybe one more month and / her baby could have lived / she got a tattoo to remember / carved a thin tulip for a skull... Read More
The Lydian by Théodore de Banville, trans. from French by Patricia Worth
Not long ago and not far away, a sculptor in love with his statue, as in the days of Pygmalion the King of Cyprus, reproduced the same miracle and brought her to life, transforming the marble into living flesh through which glorious blood flowed by his will and the force of his overpowering desire... Read More
German Letters, 1935 by Dong Li
mild winter no snow it is a sunny day Dölzschen alive the cemetery full of locals flowers laid words left in fogged breath will return after a short walk taken slowly they are hesitant to leave the house Nichelschen the tomcat died last night... Read More
Open Call for Submissions: Vestiges_04: Aphasia
Black Sun Lit is now accepting submissions for the fourth volume of Vestiges: Aphasia. The linger of the last avant-gardes is the survival of their premier violation: the trespassing of generic frames, the grievance against textual patterns of forms. This first lapse would be terminal. Schlegel, Novalis, Hölderlin. Wordsworth, Baudelaire, Rimbaud. Rilke, Stein, Barnes... Read More
Vi Khi Nao, Claire Donato & Rachael Wilson at Topos Bookstore
Sunday, July 22, 2018, 6:30 PM: Black Sun Lit presents Vi Khi Nao, Claire Donato & Rachael Wilson... Read More
Vi Khi Nao, Brenda Iijima, Lynne DeSilva-Johnson & Erin Fleming at Unnameable Books
Saturday, July 21, 2018, 6:30 PM: Black Sun Lit presents Vi Khi Nao, Brenda Iijima, Lynne DeSilva-Johnson & Erin Fleming... Read More
Vi Khi Nao & Susan Daitch at Codex
Wednesday, July 18, 2018, 7 PM: Black Sun Lit presents Vi Khi Nao & Susan Daitch... Read More
Saint-Ouen | Stalingrad by Marie Silkeberg, trans. from Swedish by Kelsi Vanada
Rashomon. The Demon’s Gate you say. / I understood that it had opened. / Only a few more seconds. And it would be opened wide. / Time would stratify. / It snowed. The first snow fell... Read More
Two Prose Poems by Michael Trocchia
He left the shovel out back, leaning against the elm; he left his radio on, tuned to a static sense of time, a pair of wet boots at the pedals of the piano, and his wool cloak, stained with wild game, draped carefully across the keys, as if to warm the heart of a winter... Read More
Two Poems by Alison Prine
On the shore your face strained / by laughter is washed in sun. / The recognition in our gaze / is cumulative. / Every morning I wake / to watch dawn unfold over the harbor. / At night I crave to go back into / the conversation our bodies have in sleep... Read More