July 1, 1981

Onion Speaking

By György Petri, translated by Kenneth McRobbie

I’m simply skin all through, even when you slice crosswise, dice me cubewise. Make mincemeat of me! It’s still the nothing you’re cutting which I don’t contain, for there’s not […]

July 1, 1981

Gratitude

By György Petri, translated by Kenneth McRobbie

The state holidays’ stillness that drives you crazy is no different from that on Catholic Sundays. In loitering crowds people are even harder to take than when harnessed towards some […]

January 1, 1981

Trillium

By Robert Pack

Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this—you are his daughter just as you are mine—I think your father’s having an affair. Last spring he started hiking in the woods, just as […]

April 1, 1980

Ode

By Philip Schultz

Grandma stuffed her fur coat into the icebox. God Himself couldn’t convince her it wasn’t a closet. “God take me away this minute!” was her favorite Friday night prayer. Nothing […]

January 1, 1980

An Afterthought

By James Richardson

By August, the clay was harder than the roads. When you drove off, I’d crouch in the strange noon exhalations of tomatoes and marigolds, chiseling at weeds. Nothing, it seems […]

January 1, 1980

Patchwork

By James Richardson

When you unfurled that quilt, tremendous as weather over your minuscule living room, I traced the arabesques and stars, the braille of the meticulous stitch my fingers were too blind […]

October 1, 1979

aa

By Galway Kinnell

Lava which breaks up as it cools is called aa (ai a); lava which on cooling retains a smooth, river-like surface is called pahoehoe (pa ho * a ho- a). […]

October 1, 1979

Goodbye

By Galway Kinnell

             1 My mother, poor woman, lies tonight in her last bed. It’s snowing, for her, in her darkness. I swallow down the goodbyes I won’t get to use, tasteless, with […]