The Cafe Review

by Myronn Hardy But I thought this was love. The beginning ending the sugar maples’ first leaves. The becoming of someone else more at

by Sergio Badilla Castillo Wang Wei is confused. What disturbance makes him think of Li Yuan? Does the storm like a rat gnaw Tang Dynasty from

by Sergio Badilla Castillo My nickname is conspicuous here in Munich’s bohemian quarter among orthodox Jews and immigrants from the East. In the

by Sergio Badilla Castillo In Avellaneda Pizarnik surprises me with a look of devastation wrought by the sullen city’s shadows. Each of us has

by Sergio Badilla Castillo Something made Vallejo afraid in public places, on the side streets adjoining the Jardin de Luxembourg / in ’20s Paris

by David Cope white dawnlight thru my windows, thru fronds of cycad & spathphylum — fierce light after months of storm & sigh, turning

by David Cope unspoken sorrow of upturned faces, crowds on Michigan Avenue scurrying, whispering their quick talk staving off the night —

by Victoria Surliuga A woman: dressed in black, sitting on a rock, exhausted from the heat, counts the grains of sand fallen from her lap. She

by Alessandro Carrera Take the act of grasping for example. It is a gesture the enclosure of the soul does not explain. No desire arises that

by Mark Terrill The broken mirror above the cracked sink in the cheap hotel room in the ancient harbor on the other side of the island seems to

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