art. literature. commentary.
Contributed By: David R. Slavitt
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 what it looked like
when the Nazis stabled horses in its wreck,
which is just how they should have left it, a shambles,
to suggest some of the truth of what happened there.
Return to table of contents for Issue 8 Summer 2014.
I’ll remember you too clearly . . . There was the college room of it: a fishnet on the walls and ceiling above a single bed. A turntable on bookshelves of stacked cinderblock and pine…
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,…
