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Tag "poetry"

Even if these waves are calmed

27 July, 2016 от ·

Simon Perchik Photo:Yoshikazu TAKADA Even if these waves are calmed this rock deserves respect though there’s no grave not yet that first turn to the side, smoothed the way all night your eyes stare at the beach, guiding it to


4 April, 2015 от · No comments

Alice Jennings Photo: Geraint Rowland   i wishing for years to stay young I am old now the white lily

Accordion Lesson

13 January, 2015 от · No comments

Alice Jennings Photo: Roberto Cacho Toca They slip into the front seat of the station wagon. This is their time together, each week. He backs down the driveway, lights up and inhales the smoke as she recites the day: the long mass, recess, those stupid boys. They stop at the midtown storefront. She yanks the […]

The Mudslide

30 April, 2014 от · 1 comment

Donal Mahoney Photo: krokodil.nana Oso, Washington 2014 Under the mud he can hear the men digging and cursing but they can’t hear him scream. The mud won’t let him scream. He was out for a walk when the mud came down the hill like lava

Forced feeding

23 April, 2014 от · 1 comment

Timothy Pilgrim Photo: Corey Leopold Your long hose snakes down from a vat filled with moist corn. Hungry geese gather like elfers around an eel or politicians, a lobbyist feast. Coax one close, lock her with knees, lift head, stretch neck taut like rope or string. Shove your hose past puckered bill, down open throat. […]

Lexicography of a Pig

24 January, 2014 от · No comments

Dimiter Kenarov Translated from the Bulgarian by Dimiter Kenarov Photo: Dave Kleinschmidt Neck legs skin stomach liver kidneys heart lard bristle intestines: a dictionary we cut into pieces on the table, chew on its words, clueless about their bloody etymology. The tongue only knows what is sweet, the eye enjoys the shape of the dish, […]


22 January, 2014 от · No comments

Ivo Rafailov Translated from the Bulgarian by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer Photo: János Balázs I hang out, smoke and drink coffee before I shower. On the white curtain in the window a giant fly makes me look at it again.

Noah, the Carrier

21 January, 2014 от · 1 comment

Kristin Dimitrova Translated from the Bulgarian by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer Photo: Andreas Schauer-Villanueva Noah told it differently. To the Jewish delegation he said that he freed the pigeon and it brought back a branch. The pigeon is the white herald of joy. It is the pure soul of the innocent and foretells the beginning of a […]

The Season of Delicate Hunger

21 January, 2014 от · No comments

The Season of Delicate Hunger is a 334-page collection of contemporary Bulgarian poetry, containing 197 translations of works by 32 Bulgarian authors. All of these authors are alive, writing and actively participating in the Bulgarian poetry scene. They represent a diversity of talent, ranging in age from 72 to 21, with each at a unique […]


17 January, 2014 от · 2 comments

Sabina Karleva Translated from Bulgarian by Bozhil Hristov Photo: Untitled blue today I confess my contempt of death. you can chain me to the bedside you can give me a golden goblet you can pour salty water into a silver vessel and summon the slaves who gather oranges in the garden to come, to deck […]

Things are well and going good

6 January, 2014 от · No comments

Timothy Pilgrim Photo: Corey Leopold Actually, not true. Life has turned into a fraudulent adverb faking its way to death, disguised as a successful modifier, say, an adjective or gangly participle with a whole covey of obedient followers. As for going good, the well is — how to put it — also a lie,

Pistons in Her Haunches

18 July, 2013 от · No comments

Donal Mahoney Photo: Nicole Lee(: It’s a 50th anniversary dinner for Bernie and Blanche at the Elk’s Hall. After dessert Blanche grabs the mike and primes the crowd by announcing, “Fifty year’s we’ve been married and Bernie’s never had a sorry day.” Then Bernie grabs the mike and says “The nights have been wonderful, too. […]

Getting Older

15 July, 2013 от · 1 comment

Donal Mahoney Photo: andy_hudd He’s getting older but has a life, checks his emails, loves his wife, likes to know what she’s wearing underneath. Might be pink, might be white. Nothing wrong with either.

Bacon & Eggs, Cigarettes, and the Courier-Express

6 July, 2013 от · 3 comments

Patrick Cornelius Photo: megnificence Used to fall asleep drunk on Saturday night, leave the shades up and hope mid-morning sun would cheat another comedown Sunday afternoon. Then I could breakfast at the Greek. I gave up hangovers half a life since, but I long for days of cruddy, linoleum tile floors, Formica-top tables with red […]

Big Meeting at the Corporate Office

27 June, 2013 от · 3 comments

Donal Mahoney Photo: Ali Leila Images When a young woman like that sails into the conference room, all masts billowing, there’s nothing the men around the table can do except take a breath and wait for her to settle in her chair, open her laptop and fuss for a moment with some errant hair

When My Wife Is in Her Garden

25 June, 2013 от · 2 comments

Donal Mahoney Photo: mbtphoto When my wife is in her garden, she becomes a ballerina moving with the morning breeze through hollyhocks and roses, peonies and phlox. There is music only she can hear. It’s been that way for 30 years. I never interrupt her dance not even when the house caught fire early in […]


17 June, 2013 от · No comments

Stoyanka Grudova Translated by Katerina Stoykova-Klemer Photo: dailyinvention last night i heard the snow as it was saying … i tried to answer it but it interrupted

Waterbugs, Roses and Me

7 June, 2013 от · 2 comments

Donal Mahoney Photo: Sandy Brown Jensen Waterbugs scurry when the light snaps on at midnight in the bathroom the way this woman’s eyes dart when I see her dancing with a nice man but not the right man.

Wild, Rushing River

1 June, 2013 от · 3 comments

Patrick Cornelius Photo: CTBPhotography In the stark damp twilight of December’s brown and grey a woman’s pulse whispers, Come back. She did test you like litmus paper, damned your wrong colored hues. And still her porcelain charity mocks you, bids you, Come back. You stand beyond her tall iron gates, where no lock accepts your […]

There Are Days When I Think of Kierkegaard

31 May, 2013 от · 3 comments

Jeremy Paden Photo: petitefox bearing his heart in grief and all Denmark passing by him as he sobs in the street, old and young embarrassed to see a lover lost in something he does not understand. What is this that beckons him, that will not release his heart? O despised pangs of love.