A blue sheen radiates from my clothes. Midwinter. Jangling tambourines of ice. I close my eyes. There is a soundless world there is a crack where dead people are smuggled across the border. — Tomas Tranströmer, “Midwinter,” Poetry International 2012. Translation: 2002, Robin Fulton. Advertisements
Eternalise me just a bit: take some snow and sculpt me in it, with your warm and bare palm polish me until I shine . . . — Vera Pavlova, “Eternalise me just a bit.” Translation Steven Seymour. Poetry International Web.
Woke up with my mouth on the rail again A minute’s more sleep and the train would’ve curbstomped me into oblivion, my scattered teeth a star show for the tunnel rats We are all a second and centimeter away from being art — Paulie Lipman, from “Sometimes the Light at the end of the Tunnel… Continue reading Paulie Lipman
I made a tiny hole in the wall with a long nail so that I could watch them screw. Image is what I saw; metaphor is when my tongue caught fire. If it’s the image I wish to employ it is because I want you to stand in my my shoes and make you see… Continue reading Charles Simi
While Pondering the Iris of His Eye I read the last line of someone else’s poem– So let him go. I understand love is trauma. Deep into the null night the vacant heart lets down its rain song. I float whispers of him away, in whispers of him, I float away. Poor and without stars,… Continue reading Dorothy Doyle-Mienko
What I want you to see is that this is a love poem. It only exits if you see it that way. — Richard Jackson, from “Shorelines,” Body (June 8, 2012)
I work so hard to forget myself & now the trees are full of autumn. This is the time of year when I would rip myself apart if I thought it would do any good. — Nate Pritts, from “Life Event,” Powder Keg (Issue One)