Table manners are so emotional: These knives reflect the teeth they imitate, Returning us to an uncultured state. The duke across from me is very tall, But not so tall as Dottie (my blind date). Table manners are so emotional These knives reflect the teeth they imitate. The seamstress next to me is very small…
When we were friends my words were colocynth seeds. Our lips were smothered with flies. — Translated by N. Aruri and Carl Senna
EDITORIAL BOARD Directors DeWitt Henry Peter O'Malley Coordinating Editor Fanny Howe Editorial Staff David Gullette Philip Schultz Jane Shore Ellen Wilbur Contributing Editors James Randall Art Director David Omar White CONTRIBUTORS NASEER ARURI (who supplied the literal translation of Mahmoud Darwish's poetry) is Visiting Professor at the University of Kuwait and Chairman of the Political…
My mother babbles. A salad of noises: “You know who this is?” asks my aunt and I dread some horror of an answer, but no, nothing. She rubs her tray instead. “It’s clean,” says my aunt, “the tray is clean. Evelyn, what are you cleaning? Play with your cards, play pishy-posh,” and then she laughts,…
The moon beat like an oyster at his head as he rode, his mare’s flanks hung with seaweed, with sea-green veins, flighting the quicksilver tide for Tintagel. An iron wind sang through his visor, thin grid of vision, of Isolde, of the steel mesh and winch of passion, of Mark with the calculating look of…
My two great-uncles got sent to the state pen at Walla Walla and broke out. Lyle can write, Rex is an addict. They both know how shouts come from the part that’s not ready. They’re laying low in some woods in Oregon, some cabin whose floor must be climbing the walls. In Bremerton, Washington, where…
Largely because of shifting academic and popular fashions, because of his own mix of Anglo-Irish, Russian, French and American traditions, and because of his sophisticated reticence – not to mention more mysterious factors determining literary celebrity – Brian Moore seems to me, as perhaps Nathanael West was up until ten years ago, a case of…
1. Celastrus scandens is the innocent, woody vine whose clusters of orange fruit open to expose bright red seeds. Scandens means climbing, or examine, see, spectacle, and scene. The Greek root meant stumble, then snare, hence scandal and scansion too. So, sparklings or star-seeds strung out on a hard, twisted line, tumbling, stumbling, and scandalized….
It is summer and the birds maintain their silence. There is the smell of raspberries that proves to be my birthday, and the gathering of certain dust which I find encouraging, and Jesus Loves Me again and again on a vague piano. This I know. I pass myself the salt.
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