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And how we violated the calm

Six poems by Angélica Tornero, translated from Spanish by Krista Ingebretson

penned in by a semi-sick swaying

A poem by Julia Wong Kcomt, translated from Spanish by Jennifer Shyue.

The greater part of death comes over me

A poem by Francisco de Quevedo, translated from Spanish by Pamela Greenberg

After death you will scratch at infinity

pounds of flesh, bile, phlegm, spit, dust

with the city we have enough of nostalgia

Dragon (Drache) by Anselm Kiefer

the urban tedium of the coast

They were a horse perhaps

And we wolfed down the rocks they put on the table.

walled up between the hours

and after sessions luxurious and tender

Should we stop to breathe as we open a parenthesis in the dream

Thirst, its golden circumstances

that which flies, flaps, beats

Underneath all of this there’s a song

a pilot dodging wood and granite crosses

to measure the body or to neglect it

Outside: The entire dead ocean, emptying itself

Your breath bright with presence is origin.

A wild tiger’s excesses. Or an ocelot.

the color of time on a ruined wall

a failed defense against our common fate

On the table, to the side of the door, is my heart

They don’t alliterate October with gold falling from the fragile trees

There is a lawless canyon in our lips, a labyrinth whose exits are burning.

Long ago I found out that you were an unfinished animal

I opened an ossuary and saw the bones

blessed by vagabond hands with a box of wine

three barricades three barricades and one dark night