Record of a Tryst In Tokyo by Eisuke Yoshiyuki, trans. from Japanese by Marissa Skeels
The jazz grew fiercer in the colored spotlight’s rays, as if sobbing or adrift on rough beats, spitting tapes of lust as white as seed... Read More
Dear Prudence by Marream Krollos
Once somebody said that these girls we teach are only going to go on to eat homemade pies all day waiting until their fat husbands come home to fuck them. Only a dream for the rest of us girls in the world… our bodies having already split apart with ways men make war... Read More
The Washing and the Clothes Line by Serge Pey, trans. from French by Donald Nicholson-Smith
I learned my letters as I ate my alphabet soup. Tiny letters, without much meaning. For her part, my mother read the earth, because marks on the ground were the writing of the night. From those signs, outside the house, she knew that a fox had passed by along the road... Read More
the beginning of suffering is by Valerie Hsiung
the beginning of suffering is species accordance / the beginning of suffering is echo dislocation / the beginning of suffering is experimentation / the beginning of suffering is interspecies vivisection / the beginning of suffering is eco sideshow... Read More
a murmuring art: translations of Henri Michaux’s asemic texts by Hannah Kezema
you’re a cascade, lightly / undefined and undressed, / mad / now / tangled of word / i, noise-light / might soften / in sprawling / would i seem just an evening under the star of sky / or could i ruminate from each side / into modern...
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Four Poems by Shira Dentz
wild flusters rose over rocks / tombs / callously forbidding / combing / may when nightfall / cutting emblem / surround serrate / loose—no? regurgitate. / sway a line / tilted and bulbous / creek / fall asleep... Read More
Three Poems from From A Winter Notebook by Matvei Yankelevich
It sounded so much better before I wrote it down, / even my jealousy seemed wingéd, like Marina’s. / Does the road wind up hill all the way? My teeth will rot, / but I’ll be rot, I hope, before that happens — then will words / mean what they say, finally…, then will you... Read More
Fragments from Moon Ring by Annie Le Brun, trans. from French by Alicen Weida
Children of this century, avert your gaze. Lips are no longer on every word. Words climb pell-mell onto the backs of things. And things, wandering in the desert of their own erosion, seek to bribe our bones, the uncertain keepers of a fortified mirage... Read More
Three Poems by Kirsten Ihns
sneezer in the foi yay, permitted as i am to name my hour / the pummeling quality that uniquely static can, i take it on / i produce a horrible noise / i intensify / the horrible noise i track across the surface of text every time / mud / no i track the slow... Read More
Carnelian by Naomi Falk
And not all touches aim to fix. We are forming something anew. I’ve grown my nails so I can brandish them on my lovers; to pass light strokes over their surface out of boredom or to leave gestural trenches of punctured sin. I often confront our seeking of pain during intimacy within the context of... Read More