Winter became a reflection and embodiment of what this story is about.
- Numéro Cinq at the Movies: Jon Dewar’s “Hypothermia” | Introduction & Interview — Matt Rogers
- One Man One Vote: Short Story — Lewis Parker
- Great Expectations: Review of Zama by Antonio Di Benedetto — Frank Richardson
- Numero Cinco | Happiness: Two Stories — Mónica Lavín Translated by Patricia Dubrava
- The Inexpressible Moment: Review of Garden Time by W. S. Merwin — Allan Cooper
- Riding the Black Waves: Poems — Susan Aizenberg
- The Path of the Jaguar: Novel Excerpt—Stephen Henighan
- Black Bread: Novel Excerpt — Emili Teixidor
- In the Shadow of Civil War: Review of Black Bread by Emili Teixidor — Joseph Schreiber
- Uimhir a Cúig | A Junkyard Full of Flowers: Poems — Paul McMahon
- From Les Fleurs du Mal: Baudelaire — Translated by A. Anupama
- Volcano: Short Story — Bojan Louis
- White Quetzal (from Orlando to Nice): Poem — Rikki Ducornet
- Anamorphosis: Art — Dave Kennedy
- Hypo: Fiction — Erika Mihálycsa
- Gooka-mol: Poems — Sydney Lea
- Naked: Novel Excerpt — Jean-Philippe Toussaint
- The Geometry Of Breaking Up: Review Of Jean-Philippe Toussaint’s Naked — Jason Lucarelli
- Baptize Me in Darkness: Poems — Denise Evans Durkin
- An Australian Childhood: One Fine Day — Elizabeth Thomas
- Dispatches from the Commune: Fiction — Sam Savage
What if “One man one vote” were taken literally, and the one man electing the President of the United States was horror film actor Christopher Walken? Lewis Parker gives us the play-by-play of the vote.
America existed for no one if not for me, but it existed only in my needs, my desires, and my fears. —from Zama
It was enough to feel their submerged bodies beating with a pulse that hadn’t ever manifested like this before: in the midst of a liberty without restrictions.
Like Han Shan, the Chinese recluse poet, he faithfully tends the garden of compassion and sudden awareness that is inside all of us.
All day you’d ride morphine’s black waves, not rousing / except once or twice, when you’d cry out, That dog! / There’s your father!
She saw the people of mud who had preceded those of corn, deity’s failed experiment in human life. The mud people’s noses and eyebrows crumbled.
Monsters in our eyes, phantoms from a forbidden world, sickly, worn down and consumed by a horrible microbe, victims of a contagious, suppurating disease.
The young woman who reportedly went crazy after seeing her boyfriend executed before her eyes and now runs naked through the woods.
…across the boglands, / deep in sleep / below a lullaby / of fresh white snow, // a black cormorant / swoops into view / then glides out / towards the open sea.
…naked in the sickly garden. / The sun in the evening, flowing and vain, / scattered his rays across every pane / and loomed, an enormous staring eye in the strange sky,
But the anger and humiliation remained, festered in him, made him judgmental and prone to hate anyone paler than he was. He often dreamed of shooting the racists, the far right-wingers, torching whatever…
Come for me / In the year named Lament. / In the year named All Of Our Losses. / Viscera unspooling black and red / on this day named 49 Death.
My mother is Italian and Eritrean, and my father Native American. So I didn’t look like one ethnic group or another and I would walk these multicultural city blocks alone, looking for someone else like me.
Sentences start out gropingly, following the itinerary of the author’s sentences with sluggish feet, to get stuck sooner or later at a polysemic word whose meanings proliferate like a tumour in that other language…
While here I hear only a lyrical breathing / and the odd and oddly tuneful infant gurgle. / The scent of the grandson’s crown / wafts up. That’s when all preachments waft up too, // all vanities, worries…
So often did she actually walk around naked in real life, at home or in the yard of the house on Elba, to the astonishment of creatures that watched her rapturously, a butterfly coming upon its alter ego…
Some couples are always breaking up and getting back together. Their love says no, says yes, sometimes in the same breath.
Baptize me in darkness / Mother of this lonely place. // Do not come too near; / let me bleed and be alone. // I am filled with sacred water; / I am healed –
I’m sitting beside him on a high stool: a small child drawing fairies with a mapping pen—meticulously colouring their wings with the fine brush I’ve dipped in jewel-coloured ink.
Charles was in the yurt and would not come out. He had crept in at night when everyone thought he was sleeping. Despite the crooked smile and useless right arm…
This month we have a selection of photo posts from the magazine’s archives. Very simple. Just beautiful photographs. From Bill Hayward, Abdallah Ben Salem d’Aix, Jowita Bydlowska, Roger Crowley, Mark Lavorato, and John Solaperto.
Vol. VII, No. 7, July 2016
- Numéro Cinq at the Movies: Michael V. Smith’s “Wolf Lake” — R. W. Gray
- Sleep and Disorder: Poems — Jordan Smith
- Life in the Court of Matane: Fiction — Eric Dupont
- A Very Funny Novel: Eric Dupont’s Life in the Court of Matane — Joseph Schreiber
- Uimhir a Cúig | Primordial Irishwomen & Other Texts — Mary Byrne
- First Kiss: Very Short Stories — John Gould
- When Night Becomes a Virgin: Poems — Yannis Livadas
- My First Job — Mary H. Auerbach Rykov
- Shipwrecks: Poems — Kinga Fabó translated by Gabor G. Gyukics
- Killer Whale: in Black and White — Julie Trimingham
- bounding for birds : mathematics | Fiction — Lance Olsen
- CRAZY HAPPY: Painted Scrolls by Rikki Ducornet & Sculpture by Margie McDonald
- On Music & the Sublime: Interview with Composer Eric Moe — Carolyn Ogburn
- The Householder-Ascetic Contrast in Anita Desai’s Fiction: Essay — Anu Kumar
- Sea of Rains: Poems — Mary Kathryn Jablonski
- Exercises — Tracy Proctor, Megan Okkerse, Sheela Clary & Whitney Lee
- Vaseline Buddha: Novel Excerpt — Jung Young Moon
- Colorless Green Ideas Sleep Furiously: Review of Jung Young Moon’s Vaseline Buddha — Jason DeYoung
Vol. VII, No. 8, August 2016
- Numéro Cinq at the Movies: Vincent Haycock’s “What Kind of Man,” Introduced by R W Gray
- Letters to the Universe: From Rilke’s Duino Elegies — Translated by Allan Cooper
- Yellow Crane: Poem — Susan Gillis
- Night Train to Venice: Poems — Theodore Deppe
- Revulsion: Thomas Bernhard in San Salvador: Fiction — Horacio Castellanos Moya
- House of Lunatics | Review of Revulsion: Thomas Bernhard in San Salvador by Horacio Castellanos Moya — Benjamin Woodard
- The Deserts and the Seas: Zazil Alaíde Collins | Poems and Interview — Dylan Brennan
- The Fatal Problem | Review of Ben Lerner’s The Hatred of Poetry — Carolyn Ogburn
- Slow Dancing: Poems — Daniel Lawless
- Emerson and Self-Reliance: Paradoxical Idea, Ambiguous Legacy — Patrick J. Keane
- The Truth About Death: Short Story — Evan Lavender-Smith
- Uimhir a Cúig | Speed My Slowing Heart: Poems — Michael Ray
- Tower of Fools: Fiction — Margaret Nowaczyk
- Why Do We Need to Think We Agree on Reality? — Lawrence Sutin
- Crossing Water: Memoir — Cynthia Flood
- The Habit of Being Passionate: Dorothy Day’s Radical Mysticism — Laura Michele Diener
- At Last, the Reading Public Gets the Trees It Deserves: Fiction — Curtis White
- Brightfellow: A Novel Excerpt — Rikki Ducornet
- A Dubious Boy: A Review of Brightfellow by Rikki Ducornet—Jason DeYoung