trans. German Thomas Frick A field of stubble. A black wind thunders. Violet sadness unfolds, The same thoughts come back, mud surrounds the brain; Asters die, leaning on fences, And sunflowers, black and dishevelled. The dreary soul shudders silently Next to the dark and empty window.
And all day, terrified by its own moans, The crowd churns in agonized grief, And across the river, on funeral banners, Sinister skulls laugh. This is what I wrote and dreamed about, They have ripped my heart apart, As after a volley of gunfire, it's suddenly still, And death send patrols through the courtyards. Summer…
I've thought about the matter a great deal, and I'm now convinced that one of the few things that could still save our literature, not to mention the deeper life of culture at large, would be evidence – preferably in the form of direct contact – that there is other sentient life in the universe….
(Trakl's last poem) At sundown the autumn woods resound With deadly weapons, the golden fields And blue lakes, the sun Moves on seriously; The night grasps Dying soldiers, the wild cries From their shattered mouths. Red clouds gather silently Over the meadows, sent by a wrathful god, Soaking up the lost blood, cool as the…
Don't torment your heart with the joys of earth, Don't cling to your wife or your home, Take the bread from your child To give to a stranger. And be the humblest servant of the one Who was your bitterest foe, And call the beast of the forest brother, And don't ask God for anything,…
MASTHEAD Directors DeWitt Henry Peter O'Malley Coordinating Editors for This Issue James Alan McPherson DeWitt Henry Managing Editor Susannah Lee Editorial Assistant Eileen Pollack CONTRIBUTORS Gina Berriault's novels, Conference of Victims and The Son are being reissued by North Point Press, which has also published The Infinite Passion of Expectation: Twenty-five Stories and a new…
You mean that — halfway through, With the game all but over — you would like To change the rules of play? You know perfectly well it's not allowed. To castle under threats? Or go so far — if I am not mistaken — As to replay the moves you made when you began? Come…
ALLEGRO NON TANTO It's getting dark. But don't turn on the light. I like to look at your eyes in the dusk. Tell me then! How's Vienna? Do they still sell in the market bunches of lavender, that sweet fragrance of bygone loves from the end of the millenium? My mother used to put them…
I went again to that place I loved not far from here, or from the noise of cars though quiet enough this early— where the sound of a stream found a deep ear in the woods, and came out in me; went to that place as one might go to the slain body of a…
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