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Poems

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  • Poem by Zuzanna Ginczanka (1917-1945) translated from Polish by Alex Braslavsky

    There’s now a so-so year for you: 1933—

  • Black Apples & Landing

    Dropping to the red earth, these, the night bearing

  • Could Someone Please Check on My Mother?

    When the young man thought about the history of poetry

  • Let Me Hear You

    I am the disappearing point of an inverted pyramid

  • Alien Valley

    I’m sick of prodding the infinite,

  • You Don’t Travel Light, Life

    is a cumbersome business.

  • While Another Dove Nude into the Breakers

    One talked with a talisman

  • Chocolate on my new pajamas

    Spun from a hundred cocoons

  • So What

    My mind’s a ringing phone

  • First Communion, forty-two and the unnamed

    I shall sit here, on this bench,

  • The Only One

    In the stories of old there were always three.

  • The Podium

    He is bilious, potty-mouthed, at once puffy and rachitic. He sways, eyes red and rheumy as September strawberries.