The Cafe Review

by Peter Schireson I’m coming to the cemetery tonight and I’m going to lie on top of your grave, baby pull a blanket up over us, me on the grass,

by Charlene Langfur What do we do now? Global warming is rising. It’s not surprising. I walk out into the world in spite of it. Each day I pass

by Rochelle Owens In an early version a deaf mute a hermaphrodite captured after the siege a hermaphrodite emptied of allegory seated on the

by Mark Terrill Sunday morning coming up out of the subway in Berlin the last shreds of lucidity torn away from the streets not far from the

by Mark Terrill If you can navigate the subway station in Hamburg–Altona climb the stairs and walk through the train station among the

by Mark Terrill The black and white of it all; ancient majestic oak trees blasted over in the storm — entire rows of birch and poplar knocked

by Christine De Luca When a day is too short to forge a history, a shared archive, she stumbles on boxfuls, unrecorded When time concertinas

by Christine De Luca The architecture of time Basilica di San Miniato al Monte, Firenze Jasmine is already fading on the wall and a

by Christine De Luca On seeing Munch’s The Scream Palms cupped over ears, she lets out an unholy screech; the heavens a whirl of blood–red,

by Christine De Luca It’s another day In the garden of the Sheltered houses she slips into each contented nap. She’s made the move from idyll of

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