My God’s Name Is Andrena LA TURQUOISE LEVANTE (THE RISING TURQUOISE) If the fields of boxes Turned grey overnight, with The seeds of birth sowing under them … When the death of language is consummated. Stridency – Mute! Before the bastille ears Of working men and women … If the perfumes of each and… R. J. Nicolet weiterlesen
Kategorie: Lit-Mag #24
International Literary Magazine – June 2002
Dieter Sperl
when the landscape ceases the door is dripping it is damp the tongue is exhausted for seconds only wheezing the tongue hanging out with all these fingers and teeth and ears in a wheezing to dawn like this until the body ripped open on the floor the heart in its beating in a passionate new… Dieter Sperl weiterlesen
Anant Kumar
Die Dämmerungsrufe in Motihari (In einem Erdteil, wo heutzutage die Kriegsposaunen laut dröhnen.) In der ganzen Welt wollen die Eltern ihre Kinder zur Dämmerung bei sich haben. Das ist ein Faktum. Meiner Meinung nach sollte es keine Ausnahme von dieser Regel geben. Von New York bis Motihari. Unter schneeweißen sonnenarmen Skandinaviern. Und unter den in… Anant Kumar weiterlesen
John Kinsella
The Fugitive Writings Four Fugitive Poems of John Heywood Otherly They never-never me, in my difference between rock and hard place, mining companies paying Fred Williams to paint a singular scraggy tree against an exuded backdrop: that’s narrative, our story, our Cenzoic conversations, tektites glowing art deco, otherly glass, impacted. The Sand of Frenchman’s Bay… John Kinsella weiterlesen
Ian McBryde
Domain Clothing Piles, Dachau It seems the clothing piles reach up to brush the clouds. All those coats, those lovingly put away coats, taken off on cold Polish nights and placed in closets. Rumpled dresses with the leaves of Warsaw parks still on their hems. A million pinafores. An avalanche of hats. All trouser pockets… Ian McBryde weiterlesen
Frank Milautzcki
Freude an den Texten AUFPASS! Hundert Deubel Hohlgass- wächter, oh aufpass!, oh oh nächtens!, schlurften wärts Wald lichterdings. Wochum wochum kein Gekutsche, genimm dich Dieb die Stadt auch vor. Aufpass!, lichts Balkonin horch … schlafnit, knirsch und knack er ast ––––– krrrrrrrrk ––––– Finster aussem raus komm Schatten, mondmit Licht geht Gaunerbrut! Arm, all Arm,… Frank Milautzcki weiterlesen
Chris Chapman
Poème en prose LINUS (walks) up the street, of any inner suburban domain. up the laneway, into the main street, on the corner is a smart italian restaurant, but those people eating their $25 vongole at the stainless-steel tables on the footpath, aren’t they a little freaked by the: drunk homeless guy, hungry punters from… Chris Chapman weiterlesen