Heiko H. Caimi – From the well (J’accuse)

If we are afraid of opinions that are not all the rage, if what other people think scares us, if we don’t have the courage to...

Silvio Donà – The first copy arrives

“It’s here!” My wife’s voice on the phone is excited, even a little bit scared. “Are you sure? ” I ask. It’s a stupid question, I...

Heiko H. Caimi – Poems in the Wind

The square. The portico. The clock tower, standing out from the city hall behind the square, reminds the townspeople of the uncertainty of time....

Silvio Donà – It’s an iPhone that, isn’t it?

  Scene: the crowded compartment of a (filthy, need I say it?) Italian train. A guy in jeans and a casual jacket is trying to cut...

Obsession is elsewhere

  -But writing what? -Writing about obsession, death. -What obsession? What death? -Writing about obsession, writing about death. -I do not understand. -You cannot. You cannot if you do not...

Silvio Donà – Alien Vs Accountant

What will people think of me? I’m an idiot. That’s clear. It’s hard to balme them. What do you think of somebody, who, while sitting at...

Heiko H. Caimi – Part -Time (or “On Springs”)

«The director was even moved», said Irina, the editor in chief of Amoreux. «I'm glad», said Imerio at the other end of the line. But...

Gabriella Tonin – Aunt Serafina

  The love of reading is her gift. Reserved and, according to some, a bit grumpy, Aunt Serafina had been silently waiting for retirement, and then,...

Silvio Donà – Father, What Do You Do for a Living?

Living room of a middle-class apartment. A man in his forties, wearing jeans and a cotton shirt, is sitting on the couch with a...

Michele Curatolo – A Journey with the Master

  The Master is a living median reincarnation between Yoko Ono and John Lennon, as if in his features, in his gestures, and even in...

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Barbara Ungar – Your Mother Serves Tongue

How could you put another creature’s tongue into your mouth? How could you bite, chew, swallow? Cannibal. Obscene. How could you tell the difference between a cow’s tongue and its delicious rump?...

Iliyana Deleva – The wall’s memory

‘Red’s shadow is brown’ – graffiti on the wall of the National Academy of the Arts. It’s not there now. The wall’s been repainted since then, and other graffiti has...

Iliyana Deleva – Home

after every poetry workshop slivers of poetry remain today the theme is home I leave a piece of home in the hospital ward at visiting time Translated by Tom Phillips Original...

Patrick Süskind – Perfume

Paris, 1738: the fish market. Here, in the smelliest place of the smelliest city in the world, was born Jean-Baptiste Grenuille, the perfume genius. From...

Iliyana Deleva – Translator

Reveals the secret stones of the tongue. And of silence. Lays hold of meanings. Translates them into words. Pulls us against the current. Reaches the vortex. Catches fish and releases them. Plock! Translated...