This is Klara. In seventh grade she was diagnosed with schizophrenia. Today she looks like an old woman. She smiles…
Poetry Travels
She came to buy herself a brand-new face. It seemed too dear. A frock would have to do. That got…
I want to fold this day into paper ships and load all my heavy thoughts into them, so it would…
We will not leave this cafe! As a sign of fidelity we put our lips against the multiple imprints of…
No matter how carefully you cut into the belly of this wonderful silver fish and clean the entrails, wipe the…
the shape I take in an ever-warming future does not depend on things at hand. faced with a wall I…
1 I’m bold, I am. I’m not even afraid of dying. I cross the clearing, my shadow a king, small…
Last week, on 16 February, the world lost Irit Amiel. This month’s Poetry Travels pays tribute to her and her…
Anne and Margot hidden so long under the stars, covered with little more than a voice, filled the lines with…
I toss away the diary. While, in the street, leaves fly like pages. By Jaume Subirana Translated by Christopher Whyte…
my skin is white on account of a sun allergy and because I spend my days with the curtains drawn…
I d(r)ipped my pen in your pain and we(‘) d(rew/rue) endlessly weird runes tog(e/a)ther By Mario Martín Gijón Translated by…
