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Death of a Dog

Buthaina Al-Nasiri, translated by Gretchen McCullough, reviewed by Mohamed Metwalli

His skin was peeled in so many places, you can’t recognize the color of his hair, but when you view the rest of the tufts on his forehead, one could say it was just normal brown…He was ancient, and had spent his years in one of the alleys: skirmishing with other neighborhood dogs, tricking the butcher in order to snatch a bone from between his legs, and in the short, pleasurable moments, pursuing the traces of females or besieging a cat by a certain wall when…


Poetry, Fiction, & Nonfiction   

excerpts from Babeltrack (notes on a lengevitch)

Uljana Wolf, translated by Sophie Seita

  In fact, wir sein ready,Was das anconzernt.—Kurt M. Stein, Die Schönste Lengevitch, 1925 being on an island, having a child, writing, and having a…

Two Poems: King of Pop and Homeopathic

Christopher Salerno

Got to be starting              some thing. My father used to                                  catch and                                           modify minor birds with butcher twine.               Revise each one to be more beautiful.

From the Archives

Free Me

Carmen Gimenez Smith

I inhabit the forest of my belly like an endangered and spotted owl. I hop into a stream, never the same one. I build a fire from the aphorisms from the cherry tree that grows from the loam of it...

The Field of Rooms and Halls

Richard Siken

1 A man found a door and hung it on the wall. I think he thought in rectangles, each day's bright panel pushed one against the next, a calendar of light.…

Chatroulette

Hilary Vaughn Dobel

Ghost of my own design, was it your / gloved hands tracing out my spine the night / I lied my way into the ER, hoping / to be touched?

Two Poems

Michael Wasson

'éetu: so be it, he says— & I ignite a flame striking a wooden match along the torso of my god: a face mirroring a boy afraid of only him- self: a shadow spills behind us

From the Blog

On Violence

$138,000 into the story, there is nowhere else to go. I spent my twenty-seventh year typing letters of application, the nerves in each hand wrecked by…

On Shame

156,000 into the story, the room is empty.   The man I have started dating listens to my stories of how the dinners at the American Academy would unfold,…