Curtains
by Petar Matovic for J. Hristic In the night, if you go out to the balcony, you will not see the stars you will not see anything. Because
Sleeping Through It
by Jeffrey Thomson When the tree came down across the fence in the night and blustered its barky limbs across the lawn, missing our bed and room
When We Read
by Ivana Rogar Poems are souls on paper, Covering pages like snow, Mile after mile. Reading them we walk the poet’s paths And the paths become
Birth
by Blanca Castellón In the midst of today’s death a poem was born alone so alone its cactus body stores water for days of thirst. Translated by
From B. to B.
by Blanca Castellón ( When I lose myself ) Dear Blanca I haven’t seen you of late you’ve been insubstantial ethereal transparent and all those
Vademecum
by Blanca Castellón “To be, or not to be: that is the question” — W. S. To be a poet the main thing is to be a poet no matter if you wear a