1.
The air is exhaust smoke, desert heat, the black sewage-streams that don't dry. Cows graze beside the river of shit; their noses sift through soggy trash.
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The Last Night of the Pharmacist’s Wife
By Jean-Paul de Dadelsen, translated by Marilyn Hacker
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Backyard
By Adrienne Su
I wish I would garden, wish I had the ambition to visit my quarter acre daily, planning nature, to expand this home by creating that room, to cherish not resent […]
Interior Accents, Denmark
— 19th c. oil, C. Sørensen When I am in "these rooms," as all say when sober, I know the autobiography of "this room" has to differ from biographies of […]
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