The Cafe Review

by Rebecca Newth For behold you look for the dill sauce but it is deep in the cupboard and lo, there is no one to help. Had you

by Gerard Malanga The sunset coalescing. The twilight waiting waiting patiently. Those commingling voices snagged in some forlorn vista. So many

by Gerard Malanga Photographs have a way of becoming souvenirs of happier times, reminders of a time and place; sometimes the nd as a

by Gerard Malanga Lost among the rubble of greed, the deletion of history, pre–history, post–history and beyond the beyond.

by Gerard Malanga She could’ve been famous in her time or in some future time, had someone taken notice, mentored her, paid homage. But I

by Gerard Malanga Elephants are the greatest dancers. George Balanchine knew this. They make no claim to beauty but overwhelm with nimble

by Gerard Malanga Goodbye Galway as my sciatica is acting up, and you turn to laugh. Constant reminders, headaches of so much left

by Clayton Eshleman 10:28 AM: top of the Tower: the antenna spire begins to descend

by Clayton Eshleman A MORNING WRITHING WITH Revelation [Bacon & Giacometti at Gagosian]

by Jerome Rothenberg THREE POEMS FROM “A FURTHER WITNESS” for Anselm Hollo in memoriam A PERFECT CIRCLE the protocol of light runs

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