By: Jibanananda DasTranslated by: Kousik Adhikari When I last met her in the field- I said, ‘One day in this time Come again, if you desire After twenty five years!’ Saying this I returned to my home, After then, how many times…
By: Kousik Adhikari Girls know bicycles when the sun looks green over the hilltop And the water feels devilish before turn cold, On my way home, I see several of them Riding with their finished smiles Still painting blushing designs On…
By: Raymond Greiner Ivaloo Johnson was 15years old living in a high hollow in the Virginia highlands, the only child of Arlie and Isabelle Johnson. Arlie and Isabelle homesteaded this land in 1805. Then both died in the winter of…
By: David Hutt velvet benches and heroin dreams, men with backpacks filled with life slung onto shoulders and walked though streets dragging beards and feet and clumping along with desperation down to the beach to watch the waves rushing up the…
By: David Hutt For several nights I kissed her lobotomy eyes, kissed her pre-torn wrists, dissolved her anxieties in our imperfections. She asked me things like, is it possible to love two people? I said no, and darling, this is as…
By: David Hutt Tonight I believed the sky could make music. Stars, moon, the trickle of the Seine, I roll myself in a sleeping bag and listen to the sky sing its dirge for me. Silence, clouds, the Paris sky is…
By: April Mae M. Berza to breathe the same air that you breathe I share a part of me, a portion of my existence to feel the pulse of the clock I must try to breathe not, the more I gather strength…
By: April Mae M. Berza to forget you is to write an elegy when the world rejoices in glee the bliss is an abyss to kiss the fears away to forget you is to tear off the ears of Van Gogh I…
By: April Mae M. Berza witnessing the fall of sakuras is waiting for love to go beyond love love is but a distance, from the tree, the flowers plunge into the abyss like my heart into yours the pink petals, one by…
By: Raul G. Moldez Above me, the sun. Beneath me, the trees. Birds give way to me as I savor the wind. Here, hot and cold mix. The atmosphere is lukewarm. My shirt is cellophane. I feel sweltering here. I’m a…