We are looking for names,
that a laughing god
could call us by.
Tag: poetry
Ezra Pound: Prototypical Beat? – Michael Washburn
We today tend to remember Ezra Pound (1885-1972) for the immense density and erudition of his work. Pound’s many preoccupations included Confucius, medieval China, Bertrand de Born, the Provençal period, ancient Egypt, the beauty of the Farsi tongue, and his fellow early twentieth-century modernists. Of course, we also remember many unpleasant things about the man,…
ONE POEM – Iona May
When did writing
become such a warm meeting place?
ONE POEM – Krysia Wazny McClain
Akademicheskaya Metro Station Sixty-four meters underground: vaulted ceilings whiter than eggshells, chrome shinier than any American diner. Pride of Lenin, who, mummified, did not see it open but extolled its nominal achievement by plaque five meters tall. On the escalator, my hand in a grey fingerless glove finds yours. A second couple kiss…
COMFORT FOODS // Koláčky —Carolyn Janecek
I was born in the eye of a koláček––
my jelly center plucked from the trees
in my grandparents’ backyard
ONE POEM – Ottavia Silvestri
bathroom bucolic a pupil, dollop of toothpaste pink blue yellow cotton balls in the static light a gracious not swarming not fermenting pale May Ottavia Silvestri is a political science student that lives in Milan, Italy. In her free time she studies Mandarin and volunteers in a tiny cat shelter (hi Melinda, you’re my favourite…
ONE POEM – Alexandra Corrin-Tachibana
Hamamatsu: home of unagi pie –– a biscuit made of eel.
Iwakuni: bridge of Samurai –– beer with strangers under blossom.
COMFORT FOODS // Courgette — Yas Necati
In the Turkish supermarket, you search through baby peaches and it makes me feel closer to you.
ONE POEM – Lorraine Carey
Slathered in a vernix coat,
you slithered out to my relief
with ten toes and two perfect hands
bunched into tiny fists.
ONE POEM – Sarah Degner Riveros
Mama hugs
her son. Can we get
horchata? No. Not today.
It’s Tuesday. Treinta tacos?
De asada? Para llevar.
The wait’s worth it.
ONE POEM – Hideko Sueoka
Carnivorous Butterwort A pale-purple tint – a sort of violet of little petals attracting flies, ants in fresh beeches shading the zigzag trail with glossy moss. The floral colour implies saintly piety to God or deities at which an insect could quail in the East. Ecru moths cruise and scurry. Near Acheron just a halt….
ONE POEM – SJ Valiquette
writing a love letter to the ocean is as singing an aria to a hurricane:
there is nothing in language for this.
Porridge 