Of Foreign Lands and People
2 December 2004
Vol. 4, No. 4
poetry, editors' select
The day my brother brought me to the pond
of one thousand screaming white swans
it was winter in Akita.
White Space
2 December 2004
Vol. 4, No. 4
poetry
A strangeness is amiss. The soup is not puree
of stinging nettle. Where are all the wonderful
varmints? The sneezing turtles? The lace-thonged
fascists? This morning the road north was not paved…
