Latest Writing
POETRY
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THREE POEMS by Iman Mersal
A grave I’m about to dig As I return home with a dead bird in my hand, a little grave I’m about to dig waits for us in the backyard. No blood on the washed feathers, two outspread wings, and a dewdrop (some concentrate of spirit?) on its beak, as if it had flown…
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IN THE HALL OF THE MOUNTAIN KING by Majda Gama
My father came from a city of old rooftops sprawled across seven hills. Within these hills were tribal Gods carved into metamorphic rock. When he built us a home, that home was new & imported. Veined, marble tiles from Italy. Wood furniture from the hollows of North Carolina. He loved what was new, but filled…
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TWO POEMS by Helena Mesa
Bozza Imperfetta of Sight The tourists arrive. Dogs roam, smaller than the strays back home, then sleep, teats exposed, on warm stone roads. The tourists snap pictures; they snap pictures of each other snapping pictures; as expected, they snap pictures of cars—a 1950s Ferrari, a red taxi with Rubenesque curves. Strangers wave, pose: A…
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