lost forgotten places   “back in mayo a blighted tree bone dry and white on a dry river-bed – dead…”...

  We live in a world of marvellous objects – that glitter and shine and amuse us for moments; and...

Clara Burghelea talks with Viviana Fiorentino about in-between states within poetry and language, the translator’s role and her project, L’Ortique....

Road lines*   You, mother, driving, me at your side -, we talk as I watch edges aligning with the...

From Part I: Eros' Season   August in Italy In the distance, small coquettish olive leaves dance with wind and...

  “Sofía, qué soñaste?”   On Sunday mornings before Sunday mass, while tidying up the house, we talked about our...

Ten thirty in the morning. Berlin, Mauerpark. I’m walking alone, accompanied by the sound of the bells inside one of...

    Advice Concerning Politicians   Police your politicians police them with the eyes of a hawk, (no less) with...

    In the last issue of the Mirror I described the 14 x 7 foot oil on canvas mural...

"America, We Call Your Name" - Poetry Anthology Has a New Life on Video and in the Schools This will...