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He finds her sitting on top of the kitchen’s table, a hand holding a book, Dark Side of the Universe, and her other one lifts an apple to her mouth. She bites and chews. Peeking through her dark long hair, her eyes, those ruby eyes he missed, focused on theContinue Reading

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1. An Inquiry Is magic The physical manifestation of imagination? The power to plunge into fantasies And never have to leave? Make life more like dreams Or bouts of creativity? Freeing the luster of stories From material possibilities? Taking reality In whatever direction We might see it go. Is itContinue Reading

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It was spring when Mrs Pohvalich went down to her husband’s workshop in the basement and hammered together a sign declaring: Palms Read. “Yelena,” said her husband, Morris, as he watched her struggle up the steps, plywood board in tow, “where are you going with that?” “To the front yard.Continue Reading

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Each grey hair I grow has powers unknown To all but the torchlight that never blinked In the storm that unlit our beacons, thrown Into darkness by the ardour that winked And sputtered hope. All the while that serene, Stolid tube of trapped and vapid light stared On, through theContinue Reading

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Let us start with the fundamentals, the first thing that you will need is an alchemic circle, for there the essence of Truth converges and through it everything flows. Bear in mind that not just any circle will suffice, you will have confine within it a square, each point ofContinue Reading

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In a perfect world, motherhood would not be equal to loneliness, but hers was not a perfect world.  She was nineteen when she met him, when he took her to the rocky beaches of that town, the town where nothing ever happened and no one ever left, to feed theContinue Reading

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CENTO 1: MY ECHOING COUNTRY (Marrying Neruda’s Love Poems with Rukeyser’s Book of the Dead mining disaster poems) In love you have loosened yourself like seawater. Or uneasy, wounded by me. In my body, bells, dove wings with eyes tired of my echoing country and its thrust of live coals,Continue Reading

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I skulk around the gemmy corners of the emerald mausoleum and sift the twinkling dirt through the veil of my unnatural hand, as if memories of sentience were enough for me to hold the insubstantial grandeur of our lofty and unseemly dreaming. Never was I bold enough to challenge hisContinue Reading

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 When the male witches flew into the river they made a male raft, an enclosed circle of men, and spat from their shoulders, spinning like a wheel. We chased after them over many bridges, their lips like lilies opening, as they swiftly swept through river towns. I caught the attentionContinue Reading