Blog Archives

Claw

September 1, 2007

by Elizabeth Harris Behling, Giulio Mozzi

The house is small, square, and white. The roof’s flat. The door, centered on the eastern side, is just a curtain with red and yellow flowers. The other sides have one square window, also centered. There’s no glass in the windows, just yellowing, loosely woven cotten rags nailed to the wood like mosquito netting. The house sits on a slight rise in the middle of the plain, and anyone looking out the windows could see a long way.

Poetry Feature: Jorge Luis Borges, translated by Robert Mezey

September 1, 1993

by Jorge Luis Borges, Robert Mezey

Featuring the poems:

TO THE ONE READING ME
THE NIGHT THEY HELD A WAKE ON THE SOUTHSIDE
THE OTHER TIGER
TO A COIN
BRUNANBURH, 937 A.D.
BUENOS AIRES