Category: Poetry

In Focus
What of Him? by Tomasz Różycki

I wish that you were here—I’ve settled my life
into this void filled to the brim with your absence.
And maybe the mystery lies in precisely
this fact—if the world sprung into existence,
it happened the moment you left.

Propositional Erotica by George Szirtes

That parts of the body be counted and fully and unremittingly checked on the appointed nights. That the arm, the shoulder, the neck, and all sundries be addressed by their secret names without recourse to speech. That the words of this proposition spend the night standing in the street like lampposts, as naked and stoical. […]

Two Poems by András Gerevich

College Library Toilets Days pressed up against one another in catalogue like books on shelves, each cohort a spot of the foxing on grandad-whiff yellow paper. The stacks muffle whispering and amplify the silence. You lean on one elbow to read, relaxing after working out, flexing the spine of something. Every now and then your […]

Passageways to God by Gyula Jenei

there will be my mother’s church, my father’s too, my grandmother’s. i am christened in the first of these, the catholic one, where i must go for bible school and mass. but my father’s line is protestant, and my grandmother often derides my mother’s family as papist. and thus me too. grandmother does not like […]

Litterfall by Gyula Jenei

the poplar trees will turn yellow then, when one night a sudden chill descends on them, and not leaf by leaf, like the happy trees, but from one day to the next the entire forest turns yellow, and in the weakening day the senile leaves lose their hold on the branches. at the end of […]

Slap by Gyula Jenei

he will be a gypsy boy, or maybe half-gypsy; but this matters only because of a spontaneous phrase. otherwise he is the same kind of sweatsuited devil as the rest of us. at that time only the agronomist’s son wears jeans, and we envy him for it, but also get along well with him. we […]

The Legend of Lobo by Gyula Jenei

strip-jointed floor, oil-fired stove, two-hundred seat auditorium to the world. we always buy tickets for the twelfth row. the rearmost medium-priced row. the entrance is five forints. for the first row, two. just once will i sit up there, to see a soviet film. i have to keep gazing upwards, my neck starts to hurt, […]

Smartphone on the Sunday Table… by Michal Habaj

Smartphone on the Sunday table. It’s all laid out. Spiders are crawling from underground. They desire your Beauty. Their names are Pride, Hate and Avarice. The web they spin is strong. Like our business relationship. In reality they own us. But you don’t know that yet. You still dream of Glory. Of monetizing Beauty. Of […]

the ventriloquists by Gábor Gyukics

the white-collar inhabitants of this globe will seriously mull over anything unworthy that does not affect their daily routines even if it let’s them fall headfirst into a manhole that won’t ever regurgitate them in vain they frown with relentless minds or goggle at the particular absence of some staggering objects which might pull them […]