Kamil Bouska

    You are at the end of the day and your hands turn quiet on things. You are at the end of the day, just as you are, as table,...
Continue Reading

Petr Hruska

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

Justin Quinn: Bohuslav Reynek’s Journeys

By remembering how many foreign debts anglophone poetry has accrued over the centuries of its existence ... we are reminded that a poet like Reynek, who seems to emerge from a faraway country of which we know little, is part of the same tradition ... This is lyric poetry of a type in which the poet uses certain patterns of rhyme and pacing that many previous generations have. It is a way of finding likenesses in both words and the world, or sometimes impressing phonic likenesses on disparate experiences, and savoring the phases of that difference.

Olga Stehlikova

It could’ve easily been a scrotum, / but most likely it was someone’s wallet.

Radka Thea Otipkova

You must be hungry, he said. / A magnificent sentence like that, / the last I remember him saying.

Vitezslav Nezval

On the beds/ Of a lantern-lit hospital/ A doctor/ Playing the flute/ Revives/ Dead tubercular women

Marie Stastna

I will love neither wildly / nor tamely / a long lukewarm love

Jonas Hajek

A hooker / gives me the come on. Whether I really // don’t want anything. I don’t, even if / I think about it afterwards.

Tereza Riedlbauchova

the ceaseless forgetting and reminiscing about pleasure / maybe two swans on the Seine / maybe one

Petr Hruska

I had never seen / such a narrow room / when we wanted to turn around / we had to embrace

Designed by B O D Y | Powered by Data3s