FORBIDDEN LOVE – By Ray Fenech
FORBIDDEN LOVEBy Ray Fenech
Forbidden LoveWhen they made love the first timeHe never thought she’d walk away;In his mind it was: until death do us apart.When she wiped his...
KAME WARURU / JAR BREAKING – Translation by William Waters
KAME WARURU Jar BreakingTranslation by William Waters A SONG FOR AHN, MYONG HWAOriginal Korean:Phonetic Korean:Ahn-gay-ga god-hee-goMyong-song-ee sa-ra-chee-chaHwa-rha Harm-ee Da-shee sal-lan-nan-da. English:As the mist risesVenus disappears;Even the dust sparkles. KAME WARURU* Jar Breaking For BashoI hadforgottenthe jarin thekitchen,--had forgottenthe...
CONTUSIONS – By Gary Beck
CONTUSIONSBy Gary Beck
Hidden Treasure
We move through city streetsintent on arrivalat destinations,immune to the beautyaround us;elegant willow,sweet Finch song,the fall of lighton an old building,the...
FATHER AND SON – By Richard Pacheco
FATHER AND SONBy Richard Pacheco Father and SonMy father waited for meit took 21 years of tryingthree doctors proclaimedmy mother would never have childrenthen she arrived at menopauseand oops at last I was...
FACES OF LOVE – By Faleeha Hassan
FACES OF LOVEBy Faleeha Hassan
Faces of love Do not carry me in your handLike a small bird wet with rain dropsLove is a traumatic experienceBut I want to live...
THE HOUSE, AFTER SANDY – By Samantha Zimbler
THE HOUSE, AFTER SANDYBy Samantha Zimbler
1. The GirlNo airplanes flew by.Outside the window, I saw small dogs shiveringhelplessly as they floated down a riverof boats and houses.
PALAVRAS – By Pierre Sotér
PALAVRASBy Pierre Sotér
Palavrasto the memory of António Aleixo
P’ras palavras serem fundas,e da vida também parte,não precisam ser fecundas,nem sequer de muita arte.Há palavras vagabundas,e...
WRITING FOR STRANGERS – By Olaf Dammann
WRITING FOR STRANGERSBy Olaf Dammann
1where do storks comefrom? if nothing else,tender enchantrix, whereis your self, yourbones are wrapped insilver linings, thatevery cloud musthave, like ends oftunnels musthave light2strangers,...
CAPRICCIO – By Maureen Eppstein
CAPRICCIOBy Maureen Eppstein Capricciofor no reasonIl capro, the goat on the hillsudden, unpredictable change, as of one's mindhip-hobble, hip-hobblesomersaultscartwheelssunlight on white daisieson the verge of a city street, a dusty sunflowera garden planted...
THANKSGIVING – By Obi Nwakanma
THANKSGIVINGBy Obi Nwakanma
Thanksgiving
It is the seventh month, and theUvene fruits are ripe again -The wild berries, plump with juice;The breadfruit, and the gourds are...
