Go to homepageWhat is expressed and prevails
as a seemingly shared code in common
does not glisten with the aura of its presence
and knows nothing of our inner life. Spotlight on the Word by Astrid Cabral, translated from the Portuguese by Alexis Levitin, excerpt
Finished reading: Material World: The Six Raw Materials That Shape Modern Civilization by Ed Conway.
I’d been thinking of how lost
you’d have to be
to believe you knew
everything there was to know
about yourself. Mondegreen by Bobby Elliott, excerpt
Outside the window, my ghost
is across the pasture. Soon it will walk its way
back to me. I will be full again, but not fully. Consumption by Adam Gianforcaro, excerpt
I’ve been troubled by their pains. In the name of Things, I want peace. I will be done with my displays. There is protection from nearly everything. But there is no protection from mankind. Aniara
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Today in a beam of sun
the baby’s eyelashes had gold in them
and closed down on his cheek. Madonna by Lindsay Turner, excerpt
Heed the tearful beckoning of weaving merfolk,
heed the breath of falling tree leaves!
Wind seeps into every vein and artery,
eavesdropping on the heart as it withers and breaks. Autumn Night Reflections by Dai Wangshu, translated from the Chinese by Yilin Wang, excerpt
We’re all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that’s all. The Breakfast Club
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Are dreams
taking their seats
on the night train? […]
All children are poets
until they stop reaching for
butterflies that are not there. Excerpt from “Tablets V” by Dunya Mikhail, excerpt
Let us gather flowers.
Let us bathe our hands
In the calm rivers,
And from them
Learn their calm.
Sunflowers eternally
Staring at the sun,
We will leave life
Tranquilly, not even
Regretting
Having lived. Ode I by Fernando Pessoa, translated from the Portuguese by Margaret Jull Costa & Patricio Ferrari, excerpt
From the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York:
If a well is really deep, you can see a star down there even in the middle of a sunny day. Ivan’s Childhood
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In the mineral dark, this maze
and matrix map a funky elation,
architecture devised in slow
motion, where tendrils bend
toward one another, tip
to tip, diverge, tangle, gather
and by vibration improvise
both call and response. Root Prayer by Patrick Rosal, excerpt
From the Morgan Library, New York:
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