e-revista EgoPHobia - ISSN 1584-6210
Inexplicable I am drinking whiskey from a tin can – this line sounds so much like blues, but let me tell you the rest. This tin can is shiny and red- oh yes, many years ago, my grandfather, for many years, kept his pencils inside and some small notebook in which he […]
One Poet in Chicago This city is scary and supreme. Its shiny lakeshore with white yachts and seagulls and herons tilting quietly upon the marble waves.
(cronica nihilistei) de Cristina Nemerovschi (Morgothya) translated from Romanian by Silvia Bratu click pentru versiunea română The second baccalaureate session has passed with as many tears and as much heart-breaking whining as the first session which took place at the beginning of this summer. Indignant students, terribly annoyed parents furiously cursing the poor teachers […]
agnostic gnostic there’s no way you can prove god exists however I know you can build an alternate system of belief a non-god arises in my soul a fallen over-god perhaps still I believe I don’t believe in myself
by Dee Mason If you’d walked up to someone just ten years ago and asked him or her how popular books will be in ten years, they’d probably tell you that they’d have become obsolete. ‘They’ll be completely out-dated and replaced by computers’, they’d likely say. Yet, here we are and books are still […]
de de Lucian Mareș The Payment As I travel to the point of origin, all is fading and black void shrouds the nexus from which all life sprouts. I find myself lost in the black void, with no compass to follow and no means to travel further. I am alone, yet the one that […]
A poetic game in five stages. by Ioana Jucan Hand-Made Lying in your own hands at the time that was riper than ever before and again was not the situation entirely. All along were you planning on
Surrogate Memory translated by Nigel Walker & Alexandra Sârbu [MTTLC student] light was falling and breaking on the ground where I had spread grass and maize-flour rolls we were listening to rammstein on the quiet drinking from half grapefruits what we had squeezed out of them and debating the price of vegetables
by Chris Tanasescu Katie Farris heralds the dawn of a “new literature” with both fierce audacity and untender irony. In her first book – from Marick Press – where fiction has the taste of jaded post-history story telling and the sound of poetry in the making, she first threatens the reader with a capital (or […]
translated by Stella Davis & Mădălina Moţ [MTTLC student] Surrogate of the rain no one is interested in politics anymore the poem about it burnt in ‘89 so no, another theme everybody writes about them, about love stories and affections, dreaming and afterwards crying and cursing and almost everyone gives up