They had started out too late. This is what she tells herself as she sits in the dark on the old screened porch and drinks a glass of wine. Terrible wine—white, at least a week old, at room temperature. It had been sitting, recorked, in the box of last-minute things they’d brought up with them…
In a kitchen where mushrooms were washed, the mushroom scent lingers. As the sea must keep for a long time the scent of the whale. As a person who’s once loved completely, a country once conquered, does not release that stunned knowledge. They must want to be found, those strange-shaped, rising morels, clownish puffballs. Lichens…
My friends who were and aren’t dead are coming back to say hello. There’s a wall that they write things on.? They have status updates. What are you doing right now? For the most part, they seem successful. They have children, which I can only imagine. The hairy kid we called Aper, I haven’t heard?…
Year after year, rain enters your diary, as the Japanese say, and an exhaustive sadness prevails. And then suddenly one day, you find the love of your life. Happenstance or blind luck; what does it matter, as long as two people meet and life is lived more intensely for all that. Because nothing brings such…
I am on my knees again, mop without stick, over old fir trees turned into flooring. A thought stood once in the middle, near the cookstove, left heel and right heel. Left hand and right hand, I wash around it. Thought without handle, thought without hands, without lemons or Serengeti. One breath, another, one corner…
Translated from the Slovene by Michael Biggins with the Author I’ve invented a machine that, as soon as a goldfinch opens its throat, starts dumping bags of concrete inside. Who licked the candies into concrete, we don’t know. Who then brought the concrete to life, we don’t know. The goldfinch sails. The goldfinch sings. Where…
To begin with, Terrance Hayes is a compulsive storyteller, and prone to enthusiasm. He says, “What’s going on?” to start a conversation, “Sure, sure” in agreement, and “Later” for good-bye. He is always doing something artistic, be it sketching—he carries a tin with paper and pens, and drawings by him and his son, wherever he…
Every year they come together like the risen sap of bamboo,? cross cut canes pitch and toss,? all the families waving, in the white laden branches of the pear trees. Hives that once sang like choirs lie against the gable walls? of their churches and schools, tossed in the dust of quarantine,? old tea chests,…
There are only two things in the world I don’t know. The square root of 77 is 8.972. The capital of Michigan is Kalamazoo. Most everything is simple if you know where to go. The Internet is a gold mine. The dictionary is good too, and there are still only two things in…
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