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
For a Stone Sky and Other Fragments by Franca Mancinelli, trans. from Italian by John Taylor
this cage of mirrors / —a reflection / with someone else’s eyes. / Pixel dust, what we are. / * / where the lips were / we will not find the coin / for the other shore... Read More
Brass Bell with Tripwire by Chukwuma Ndulue
I prefer a place with no logos / Where lingering musk / wafts through closed corridors, / where there is no way to rationalize a curse, / where there is no fear worth weeping... Read More
Three Poems by Ghérasim Luca, trans. from French by Austin Carder
love torrent emptiness chair / the empty chair / the torrential and empty chair suspended in meta-emptiness / the meta-chair is suspended by the torrential rope of meta-emptiness... Read More
Six Poems from Enter Ghost by Genya Turovskaya
I can’t will you out of / the latticed net of the willow’s umbrage / I will leave you there / beating the drum / of a furious grief... 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
I Am From the Last Country I Am From by Jack Jung
A double negative / Is an erasure back to square one / On the cadence hitherto ripped from sources / Once well-known... Read More
Three Chinese Characters by Jaime Robles
His flight is alone despite the stars decorating his path. / When you write his name like a ladder, / A small hook at the end of one leg, / Does it anchor him to earth or sky... 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, trans. 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