January 2025
In this issue
Contents
Three Poems by Gavrila Derzhavin in Translation
Peter Orte and John Hamel present translations of Derzhavin’s three poems.
red bean
I spend the forty-five minutes warming up, front-kicking & later getting my back straightened by sabumnim on the hard-wood, eyes
Hippopotamus Rain
I’ve developed an obsession with unabridged, rambling, disordered lists:
Zoomorph
He sits cross-legged in the slant- light that cleaves a plane in the cave floor, a line that recedes with the sun
Finding the Center
Round and brown, he hops amid the spikey chaos of salmon berry, tail upright, body shaking with what one ornithologist called
Kaleidoscope Girl
“Not even skin that sparkles should be shown, You Lilith. You lady of the night, dancing like no one can see you. Who do you think you are?”
South Fork Yuba Equinox
And we two are caught once again between the thing and its reflection.
A Brief History of My First Marriage 1969
Chinook, the Snow Eater, drools. Electric lavender shimmers down its scaley silver cheeks.
Lost Souls
He had the same easy smile as Patrick, but his eyes were more calculating. They roved over her red flared pants, her pale blue shirt, her hair done up in ringlets.
The Calf
Father had gotten the fabric from a business partner who had been to Bombay and it was rumored to be the most expensive of fabrics.
Bad Boy
Earlier at dinner Johnny had been singled out, oldest boy, to perform. “Tell us what’s up in the sky at night, Johnny.”
Canned Laughter
When Binoy the male nurse joined, Maami shifted with her grandkids and forgot Maama completely. Once, when she accidentally confronted her now forty-kilo husband in the corridor