Tim Postovit

HOTEL by night I dreamed I was a hotelmy last customers were tired peopleI was the last place on the...
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Josef Kučera

There was a rippling pond and the croaking of frogs / and various birds anas crecca, / there was the tingling of sand on the Borecké Rocks / and the cracking of pinecones

Karel Šebek

Prague is falling behind the windows / like an autumn curtain falls on summer / like a fish falls after a whale

Milan Děžinský

We sit and watch the chickadees in the feeder, / drinking hot tea, a celebration of security / with dusk’s familiar arrival.

A Send-Off for Ferlinghetti by Adam Borzič

He sang / like a gas station on a black summer night.

Stanislav Dvorský

perjury of lightning bolts: / a fish spine rises from the trenches of the wound-up day, / disrupting darkness

Radka Thea Otípková

At night I become his missing arm. / The one he lost on the front, looked for / years later and didn´t find.

Kamil Bouska

So many people in the world. Truly, is no one superfluous?

Petr Hruska

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

Petr Borkovec

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

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