I’ve been a time-/ wasting machine by Ignacio Fernández de Palleja – translated by Laura Cesarco Eglin

    I’ve been a time- wasting machine, a type of mechanism science fiction does not care for, a guy that yearns for the parties he hasn’t been to and the neighborhoods he’s never visited, the life he hasn’t lived, I’m someone that breathes with impulses of something he doesn’t […]

Evelyn Hates Her Name by Kristín Eiríksdóttir – translated by Larissa Kyzer

      Kristín Eiríksdóttir is an award-winning novelist, short story writer, poet, and playwright from Reykjavík, Iceland. Kristín has published seven books and had three plays staged. Her short fiction has appeared in Best European Fiction 2011. Her novel Elín, ýmislegt, forthcoming in English in September 2019 as A […]

I run naked by Ignacio Fernández de Palleja – translated by Laura Cesarco Eglin

    I run naked around the neighborhood, along the medians of a boulevard, wearing shoes, of course, because otherwise it would be like writing with blood every day. My nakedness has nothing particular about it except that it’s a discrepancy, a physical way of wanting to show the soul. […]

Selections from Today/Hoy by Juan Gelman – translated by Lisa Rose Bradford

      Argentine poet-in-exile Juan Gelman (Buenos Aires, 1930-Mexico City, 2014) published more than twenty books of poetry and his numerous awards include the Pablo Neruda Prize (Chile, 2005), the most prestigious Spanish-language literary award, Cervantes Prize (2007), and the Premio Leteo in 2012. His last book, Hoy, was […]

A Few Banal Modes of Liberation and a Stroll Along the Broad-Gauge Tracks by Aleksey Porvin – translated by Isaac Stackhouse Wheeler

    1. Francesco Petrarca, better known as Petrarch, compares a poet to a bee who makes honey with nectar gathered from many different flowers. Francisco Sánchez de las Brozas, better known as El Brocense described the power and originality of the art of poetry in terms of force. The […]

from Meno Universe: “22:40” by Guido Cupani – translated by Patrick Williamson

    MY BROTHER TEACHES ME HOW TO HOLD A GLASS because life is here, he says, where thoughts end and briscola algebra begins, you should write about it                                             and my brother reads Dostoevsky and has rosy cheeks as in that photo at the lake in eighty-five when I was […]