SOLDATI BY GIUSEPPE UNGARETTI
Bosco di Courton luglio 1918 Si sta come d’autunno sugli alberi le foglie SOLDIERS, TRANSLATION BY WALLY SWIST Bosco di Courton luglio 1918 We are like the autumn as the leaves on the...
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SI PORTA BY GIUSEPPE UNGARETTI
Roma fine marzo 1918 Si porta l’infinita stanchezza dello sforzo occulto di questo principio che ogni anno scatena la terra WE CARRY, TRANSLATION BY WALLY SWIST Roma fine marzo 1918 We carry an infinite weariness of...
Read MoreGIUGNO BY GIUSEPPE UNGARETTI
Campolongo il 5 luglio 1917 Quando mi morira questa notte e come un altro potro guardarla e mi addormentero al fruscio delle onde che finiscono di avvoltolarsi alla cinta di gaggie della mia casa Quajdo mi risvegliero nel tuo...
Read MoreI FIUMI BY GIUSEPPE UNGARETTI
Cotici il 16 agosto 1916 Mi tengo a quest’albero mutilato abbandonati in questa dolina chehaillangjuore di un circo prima o dopo lo spettacolo e guardo il passaggio aquieto delle nuvole sulla luna Stamani mi sono disteso in...
Read MoreCHILDREN AT PLAY BY VICTORIA TWOMEY
children of the storm know how to monitor the silence between the claps of thunder for meaning for intent how to feel for oncoming lightening how to hide behind the shelter of false faces swallow the shadows drink down the rain...
Read MoreLOST DOGS BY JAMES CARNS
I’ve cried so many times for dogs I’ve lost. Their lives so very short, and mine so long. But now I have a pack of them at heel. They follow me, in step with my remembering, each one his own, but all a product of myself, my...
Read MoreCOLLATERAL DAMAGE (ON THE PANDEMIC) BY JAMES CARNS
They lie in refrigerated trailers and mortuary halls, dumped on our consciousness like too many leaves in fall. More than can possibly be swept from sight on the well-kept expanse of our complacency. How can this be happening in...
Read MoreAMBER BY JAMES CARNES
Her ink in dark blue, subtle shades on mocha in the modest triangle beneath a bright smile suggests true art on larger canvas hidden by a tantalizing drape of white cotton blouse. She scans my items, says hello and means it, and...
Read MoreWHEN THE WORLD WAS A GROCERY STORE BY EILEEN M. CUNNIFFE
Before she could reach the register, my mother went to work in her father’s grocery store. She was five when she became a clerk in the small shop at 431 Girard Avenue, in North Philadelphia. At the time—the late 1930s—my...
Read MoreTHE LINEMAN BY DAVID MALONE
‘There are times/ When a black frost is upon/ One’s whole being, and the heart/ In its bone belfry hangs and is dumb.” – R. S. Thomas, The Belfry Forty years an outside lineman with Bell Telephone in the Kingston area, he told...
Read MoreMISSISSIPPI SOLSTICE BY JEANNETTE DE BEAUVOIR
For the three activists abducted and murdered in Neshoba County, Mississippi, in June 1964, during the Civil Rights Movement. Celebrate this day as solstice, the beginning of sunshine summer that brings life to this tourist town...
Read MoreOUT OF A BURNING PLANE BY JEANNETTE DE BEAUVOIR
The man in the seat ahead is impatient. Not fast enough, he says. The wrong brand of Scotch. The flight attendant keeps smiling, even though she’s been up eighteen hours, hearing him complain for the past five. A friend is a...
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