The Triumph of Light over Darkness, Vienna, 1904 by Tana Jean Welch

Shunned by the University for suggesting human existence consists of nothing more than the infinitely repeated cycle of birth, copulation, and death—Klimt guards his nearly finished mural with a shotgun, shouting to his detractors from the balcony of the Great Hall: “Is it my fault the jellyfish swamp the pier in Binz, captivating the young couple on their honeymoon? Is it my fault the woman’s…

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A Parallax Reading by John-Michael Bloomquist

  — Origen is writing another letter at his desk to the bishop: when you pray and lock the door, it will stay locked— worlds grow in this, mummified like a palm tree wrapped in thick bands of bark, trunk to green folds, needles at the clouds— those bowls of rice for rain— your prayer scratching heaven at the back of its throat. As the…

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Life in a Foreign Country by Kathleen Heil

  The body is a map of                           my                                                             own mysteries                                                                                                                                       (here we say «they» not «my»)                                                             I am                                                             they                                                             own foreign country. The longer I’m here the better                                                             I sometimes speak the language I sound more foreign                                                             (I am foreign all the time)…

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