Three Poems

Injured bone. Blynken and Nod.
Visor your irises, handle with tongs.
We all think the Mandate of Heaven belongs
To him who gets-away-with.

Poems by Tadeusz Różewicz and Ewa Lipska
translated from the Polish by Joanna Trzeciak

Study death. Learn it by heart.
Following to the rules of spelling
dead words.

Spell it together
like commonwealth or toadflax.

Do not split it
among the dead.

Two Sonnets

The wolf prowls the hills, kills what it kills.

Three Poems

By (Johns Hopkins University)

…the black lead of his carpenter’s pencil has been pressed into the paper with tremendous force, far exceeding the demands of the form or the requirements of the shading in that precinct of the image…

Some Passages from Virgil’s Eclogues

That was the day Corydon became Corydon.

To Yield a Body

By (University of Chicago)

It is a facsimile. It is facial angle: European woman. It is stomach simple, similar to a box. It is on either side of inside. It is grapple. It is extracted from lignite and peat. It is worn by women. It is whether with gloves, a moveable roof. It is concerned with whalebone. It is a […]

Spy Poem

     I don’t know how I found you—like
               red dots spread across lines, pages
               before I noticed I
 read them as if I read them—like when turns
       of plot arise
               in shows I watch
 while thinking how I thought them there—

Three Poems

this is the hour
of the small ear
& the sea’s all a case
of minds.  the splotched
ginkgo leaves attest
nothing more than
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