Ignorant, the snail crosses both good and evil, the sensations of each, as it caresses earth, sometimes warm and tempting, sometimes cold, devoid of answers. Its journeys embroider silver lace on truths, half truths and lies– a work of art by such a slow, insignificant creature, easily crushed by the wickedness of the powerful, by […]
The Silver of Our Moment Read More »
by Camelia Leonte: The fiddlers, the wedding guests / have put on black clothes and are looking for you.
Murmur Enough, enough, pale murmur. The fire has caught. The ants come after us, cruel army for whom death is only a problem of space. Translated from the Romanian by Mihaela Moscaliuc Silence When silence courses through you, it can’t help but resemble death. Miniature jade figurines contemplate the stillness. Always, half of me
by Radu Andriescu: On a collective farm in Panciu I climbed with a turkey hen / to the roof of the canteen
by Camelia Leonte: He bears his vertebrae on his back. / I wonder what spiritual rage drives him,