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“The Air” by Anthony Mirarcki
There are methods ofcoping, optimism in theface of uncertainty, hope.
Change can be agood thing, a chanceto reflect. But questionsinfect my outlook—
How fast can life change?What will happen next?Where do I go from here?
The answers to theseinterrogatives, liketheir cause, remain in the air.
Maybe time can healall wounds, or maybe timeis up.
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“Program-Poetics: Cultural Object Ontologies by Maure Coise” Reviewed by Mike Corrao
Maure Coise, Cultural Object OntologiesInside the Castle / October 2019162 pagesCultural Object Ontologies, like most books released by Inside the Castle, is difficult to describe. It lies somewhere between procedure and poetry, between theory and practice.The text initiates in a set of sparse stanzas. They hug the left margin of the page as the author begins to map out a program called, Dialogica. I do not know if this is a real program or not, or if it is maybe made in reference to an actual program. -
“The Optimist” by Raquel Melody Guarino
I packed my bag upstuffed it fullSeams burstingas Itryto pullzipand pushdown the pileto make it easier tocarry
it doesn’t matter what you putas long as you can bear itwithout their help
you may limp or even tripbut you brought those bagsyou brought them for a reason
you will pull those bags up the stairs
one by one.
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Four Poems by Andrea Jurjević Artwork by Kirstin Mitchell
She Floated Away
After Hüsker DüA mob of slam dancers hurls and shoves in the mosh pit of the park fountain—all this furor, thrust-riot, all this outage, the ridding
of the white corset. Under the cankered poplar a man rests his stiff leg across his lover’s knees, leans into her narrow shoulder and scratches a rough scratch in the V of her thighs—
the axis of her body, black as the tail of a swallow, forked as a dowsing rod.
Yet her gaze is fixed on the fountain,
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Two Poems by Martin Rock
Lines Written After a Party in New York
It isn’t sarcasm or sadness but the feeling
of having been left to die in the middle
of a rooftop filled with one’s attractive friends.
They look at me and I try to look at them.
My eyes remain fixed on the side of my head.
My tongue is a fist submerged in ice.
I try to make my way back to the surface
to bleat but I cannot. My eyes are glassy
& probing & panicky & -
Global Voices Interviews *Poland* Bronka Nowicka and Katarzyna Szuster in conversation with LIT’s JP Apruzzese
The Polish version of this interview appeared in Biuro Literackie on 23 March 2020
Every so often a writer comes along who shows us what literature can and perhaps is meant to do — offering not so much a different perspective as a different way of seeing. A writer whose work inhabits a space undetermined by convention, trends, topics of current interest, unafraid to put aside the noise of daily life and explore the unnoticed – unseen because ignored – life that is nevertheless fully within our grasp.
