Six Poems from Flow state by Ryan Skrabalak
Write a music. Write a music more of with more no world, with things arranged. Things rearranged in no. World with no question (past, as night) in the mode of your fog. So that the fog was suited for your music and you made it with. Not owned. That’s your sense of this world... Read More
Four Prose Poems by Benjamin Paloff
I can only wonder at the decisions the ever-elsewhere hummingbird is weighing mid-air, but its suspension in all-at-onceness makes perfect sense in this “rarely” so rare as to mingle with never-forever. Taking the corner wide to skirt the black ice, there’s no need to keep looking... Read More
Four Prose Poems by Ken Taylor
if he talks his voice will not be the thing said, but the way of not saying it. what it aims to spurn. short on collar points. disciple of celestial steering. he keeps his mouth shut. the image will have to carry. not to be seen as holdup to action. he’s lost in thought in... Read More
Five Poems from The Cheapest France In Town by Seo Jung Hak, translated from Korean by Megan Sungyoon
The heart was about to explode when the pipe was raised, still bleeding. The length of happiness was inversely proportional to fear, that bold solidity. Disgusting laughter echoed around. I, too, almost cried... Read More
Five Prose Poems from Data Mind by Joanna Fuhrman
I was looking up anagrams of my middle name when I heard a scratching from uncategorized bivalves establishing a new species beneath the carpet. Thus began my life as a clam-cognizant, neo-olfactory, intra-confessional, proto-shambolic coordinologist, and ended my career as a poet... Read More
Five Prose Poems by Cole Swensen
A former sun, a warmer form of falling on, fallen now, warmly in grass, while the sun in your hand is a lonelier one, so you hold it more closely, and a light deep inside the body wanders back. Or perhaps it’s that, fallen in grass, the oranges glowing in the late slanted light return... Read More
Four Prose Poems from Outskirts of the World by María Negroni, translated from Spanish by Michelle Gil-Montero
How does a disciplinary sea compare to a didactic sea? Or a choppy sea to a verbalized sea? You never know. Meanwhile, this sea begins to seem remarkably like the sea. You only need to wait for the day and night of reality. The sea’s strategy is its own concern... Read More
Excerpts from Crane by Tessa Bolsover
I awake and the boughs, battered and paddling against the window, bruise shadows in the hardwood. Amplified by rain, the sounds inside resonate like pieces of a disassembled object. Slowly, words begin to spread with a viscous clarity over everything... Read More
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