A Southern African-American poet has just published a work of radical literary integration. It storms the last bastion of dead-white-guy literature, the “whites only”
She sits between two men who touch her arms with their arms a steward drops multiple things on one coffee stirrers ice a sugar
Translated from Romanian by Adam J. Sorkin and Diana Manole sam counts the passengers on the bus thinks of the twelve apostles notices that
Try to not exist, said the gypsy, weaving white through wind. Red clover. Timid fleabanes, too scared to widen beyond their small spiked circles.