The door always used to swing shut, by itself, for years and years, with measured haste. / Now it stands utterly still.

Petr Borkovec is now a somewhat neglected author, and it is unquestionably true that only a small handful of readers know his work.

in the auditorium of several neighboring windows / I see a single moth / as old and miserable as the world

They had already sat down on the bed. Then the man remembered the back door was still open.

My daughter marches through the forest. She can’t do it herself, so / she uses my legs, my eyes and my fear.

I retrace my steps, barefoot and diligent as a shipwreck

In the end his body puked him out / as if it were only a stomach / and a mouth. It didn’t let him / just slip away.

Animated excerpt from Czech surrealist poet Vítězslav Nezval's poem cycle "Bizarre Town." Translated by Stephan Delbos and Tereza Novická. Published in The Absolute Gravedigger by Twisted Spoon Press, 2016.

occasionally there is too much ado / about night-time, that’s fine, turn out the light / and slide me in the grave, this time I’m through / with sounds and lights, for me now dreams feel right