I’ve always appreciated the chlorine smell of pools. There might be pleasanter scents, I admit, but for me no better exists. Technical, precise, spotless, bitter. Blue, chemical,
15 I linger, now, before the mirror, searching for the traces of your hands, the paths that, so often, Your fingers have travelled. I linger, now, before the mirror and I know that
As if nothing happened since then. As if I saw you centuries ago when you were not so small and things so large. As if we had found one another in another life, playing at searchin
It is far easier to introduce and review Spanish poetry already published in English translation, as my colleague Anna Blasiak is doing, than to try and cover everything not yet in
Aimed at children between the ages of five and nine, Madani’s Best Game is a heartfelt story featuring a neighbourhood football team and its star player. Originally publishe
‘When I leave the house, everything is so difficult for me.’ White text on a stark, black background opens this twenty-page picture book that follows one little boy during his
Whoever began to think of how to catalogue that which we call man and woman could have arranged to meet with someone to stroll, with anyone, along the seashore, and enjoy the silen
Almost always, when the subject of queer poetry is broached, one must first consider definitions: whether it is self-identity or content that determines inclusion in, or exclusion
A Perfect Jordi Accent Emily Dickinson said that she knew she was reading a poem if she felt that, the top of her head were taken off. This image seems incongruously violent as if
