When I asked Robert Wynne to join me as co-editor of a new poetry anthology, his immediate response was When do we start? Only
Translated by Kathleen Snodgrass The open hand’s sharp nails prop up a face of lackluster pearl. Behind the smoke of the motionless cigarette
Translated by Kathleen Snodgrass In a blinding white afternoon a bride behind the glass strolls among sweet sixteens in yellow who look out
Three hundred years leaves little legible. The dates of mothers dead at twenty-five beside their daughters dead at nine. Winged skulls, winged cherubs, winged