726 entries in Mag: Articles

translation

is there a zone of darkness between all languages, a black river, that swallows words and stories and transforms them? here sentences must disrobe, begin to roam, learn to swim, not lose the memory...

when speech left me

perhaps i was just drinking coffee or opening the newspaper. perhaps i was drawing the curtains or looking out onto the street when speech left me. still, i thought, what a rattling from deep in the...

Awaiting a Poem

They await you: The new poem They await your downpour through my soul My hands shaping your features I stand with my heart agape To observe this desolate world As it falls into ruin Blood covers...

Face (still life)

What’s the deal with your face, Dad? It seems abandoned. You are not dead, but your face: as if immersed in water. Your skin is colorless and molten — the eyes impossible to penetrate,...

from “Third-Millennium Heart”

The will to have no openings, to avoid areas where humiliation and assault take place. In terms of the blood stream, not wanting infrastructure, it’s the same. Sun chariot and moon chariot...

from “Poems 2014”

Let’s say I download something in the black night or let’s say I listen to Iron & Wine and get up slept 10 hours hazy and heavy from medicine. Haven’t heard the music in many...

from “Everything Shimmers”

  Then suddenly beech woods, all green behind the dozing eyes a deer leaps across the forest road scents of acid and moss and cheek against bark, sunrain between trunks,...

Travel by Train

Translation © 2015 by Meghan Forbes. All rights reserved.

Journey to Angkor Wat

Photo: Sharon May, “Angkor Wat Causeway, Cambodia” (2009) Journey to Angkor Wat (Nireas Nokor Voat), Ukñā Suttantaprījā Ind’s most celebrated poem, recounts...

From the Great Stele of Phimeanakas

Photo: Sharon May, “Apsaras, Angkor Wat, Cambodia” (2009) Queen Indradevi’s Sanskrit composition (c. 1190–1200 AD), inscribed on the large stele found at Phimeanakas in Siem...

[I wish there was a god]

I wish there was a god who would see to it                that we who work in Finland as bus drivers small-town...

Evening Fare

This is a smart time, I think as I sit and eat a sandwich in the kitchen. Tomorrow is sorted, the hayracks ready, the tools even stowed in the shed, your magnificent culinary creation needs one more...

Four Prose Poems

Förby    We have no dipping moon over a metropolis’s hills. We have no breeze caressing the parchment of an aging poetess that would cause her to say: “It comes...

what do you write about

what do you write about? asked the Jordanian poet. about love, I answered. there isn’t anything else, is there. yes, agreed the Jordanian poet, there really isn’t anything else. when he...

From “Senza Polvere Senza Peso”

Now night comes—brings prayer. It opens the silence’s locks makes the sidereal map appear and we kneel facing that immense space between now and the rim of the beginning when spinal...

From Watering the Plant of Dreaming (Dialogue with Paul Celan)

Author's Note: The following is an active, experimental dialogue with a beloved poet; texts are constructed around single verses from the German poet, distanced from the original context and used...

Future

My mother gave birth in December. Snow fell on the river. Water froze over the fish by month’s end.  She showed me to everyone since I hadn’t died . . . .  “We’ll...

Landscape

I neared a branch heavy with snow bending under the grip of one of the crows. I became that gray and black rocking. And an uncommon green (a mix of salvia and ice) that spread a tint of bruise on the...

1-02

I cut my sister’s hair today the locks fell like huge tears against the baseboards I swept it up and tossed it in the trash All that dead hair has filled my dreams One day I dreamt of dead...

Frail Before the Squalor

Frail before the squalor             squalor being a feeble answer the everyday self gives its own abjections it surprises me to be in a city...

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