Among the rich, anger’s no rarity:
hatred comes cheaper than charity.
Genus, Aucte, lucri divites habent iram:
odisse quam donare vilius constat.
Contributed By: David Macey, Martial
Among the rich, anger’s no rarity:
hatred comes cheaper than charity.
Genus, Aucte, lucri divites habent iram:
odisse quam donare vilius constat.
Return to table of contents for Issue 12 Winter 2018.
“He reeks of last night’s wine!” That’s off the mark. He drinks until dawn clarifies the dark. Hesterno fetere mero qui credit Acerram, fallitur: in lucem semper Acerra bibit. Return to table…
Rome lauds, loves, and sings my little books. I am in every pocket, every hand. Behold: she blushes, pales, dazes, yawns, looks sick. That’s what I want! Now I’m my own fan. Laudat,…
INTERVIEWS Eric Shonkwiler interviewed by David Bowen Power & Light Juan Gelacio interviewed by Robert Joe Stout Invisible on Paper ESSAYS Leonard Kress What Kind of Parent Lets a Thirteen-Year-Old Cancel Her Bat Mitzvah? Erinn…
In Prisov, not far from Košice, a shul or rather an exhibit of itself restored, except of course for its congregation, is open for tourists to visit and inspect. On a wall are photographs of…
I’m in Orlando, the magic kingdom of every thing. Magic tricks God out of taking what can’t be remembered As boredom’s least expected twin sister. Please read While listening to Madame Gahndi’s “Yellow Sea.” The magician reveals a piece of you, you didn’t know was there. One of the most beautiful tricks of fall? […]
“Now more than ever, my words conjure your silence” (dedication to John Anthes, from El libro de la muerte) In a text from Invitación al polvo, La nada de nuestros nunca cuerpos, Manuel Ramos Otero writes: “The elderly women of Mondoñedo bring ears of corn to the little Galician girl, over which falangist flies flutter, flies who never […]
by T. P. Sabitha translated from the Malayalam by the poet first published in Mathrubhoomi (Sept. 14-20, 2008) To Omana and Gopalakrishnan – translators extraordinaire from Russian into Malayalam – for the gift of a Soviet childhood All of a sudden a pelican landed on our verandah. The river Volga rushed along circling the deity in […]