John McCullough

  XANTHIC   Some months all my thoughts are one colour. I hit a yellow mood and the world pours out its yolks: tall stacks of...
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QUAD by Alistair Noon | Friday Pick

Despite my characterizing of Quad as elliptical, there is a clear distinction between narrative disjunction (abundant) and the formal repletion and bevelled finish of Noon’s quatrains (also abundant).

Eva Peterfy-Novak

He looked back at me, he was taking note of the moment in his head. The moment the fairy tale crumbled.

Francesca Bell

Five years into your child’s illness, / when you can no longer conceive of life / without its dank presence, you see / a blanched sky bearing a trace of rose / and the moon, risen huge—

Edvin Subasic

Malem carried his axe door to door, cutting firewood every fall. They say he never parted from it, not even in bed. They say and they know, they always know.

Douglas Nordfors

We've thought of how sunlight falls to the pavement / like rain, gathers in the gutters, slides toward the grates.

Pavol Rankov

I’m not convinced of anything. I don’t trust my memory, which tells me that the entire village gathered in front of the house that night. They had come to do something bad. I can still see the whole thing. A tribal ritual.

Silent The Bird In The Wood: A Goethe Translation-Erasure By Joshua Weiner

Silent the bird in the wood

Bradley Paul

My son speaks more every day / but I get deafer. / 
We will align for just one day / where I hear all of what he says // but not more.

Andrei Konchalovsky

My very notion of our entire twenty-year relationship went straight to the depths of Hell. None of the roses I had sent her over the years — to her home, to her dressing room — could explain, could excuse, such a colossal misunderstanding.

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