e-revista EgoPHobia - ISSN 1584-6210
~ editorial >>> Ștefan Bolea – Countryside Graveyard ~ articole >>> Sorin-Mihai Grad – Ei vs noi [rubrica “egoZaur”] >>> Gelu Teampău – Împotriva cinismului [rubrica “pași mărunți”] >>> Silviu Nate – Neglijarea geopolitică pe care a crescut Rusia și destinul incert al Mării Negre [rubrica “pricinaşul de serviciu”] >>> Ștefan Dumitraș – O casetă […]
de Ștefan Bolea Orice om care are vocația iubirii, o are și pe cea a urii. De fapt, ura este o variantă a dragostei. Iar dacă adoratorul / distrugătorul este artist, intensitatea chinului crește. Gândiți-vă numai la Louis din Interviu cu un vampir. Iar acel odium asasin pe care îl simți pentru cea pe care […]
[visual poems] by Richard Kostelanetz
by Daniel de Culla [Corner for Kissing. Burgos]
(egoZaur) de Sorin-Mihai Grad Știți povestea, noi, românii, suntem cei mai cei, grădinarii maicii domnului și, printre altele, am fi patentat bunul simț dacă acesta ne-ar fi permis-o. Iar în orice nu ne reușește, eroarea noastră e cel mult de a fi avut încredere în cine nu trebuia, vinovați cu adevărat fiind mereu alții. Spre […]
Two sides to my waking I awake in the room next to your sick-bed. Through the thin wall, I hear grunting sounds, sandpaper coughs, your rough imitation of your own voice.
by Douglas Young Julissa Ye relished all the comfortable little routines and quietude defining her part-time job at The Bookery, downtown’s last small, locally owned bookstore. As much as she enjoyed the excitement of the college social scene, working at The Bookery provided a tranquil respite from the other rooms of her life […]
by Elinora Westfall London. Spread across the dining room table, the newspaper is dissected, absorbed, and devoured voraciously. This rag, running necklaces of dirty type that smudges fingertips, this dirty Herald, the only touchstone with the world outside Bloomsbury Square. Today the paper tantalises with a headline on a comet streaking through the southern hemisphere; […]
by Jeff Helgeson The windows across the room were dark. Don Stryker could see himself in them, surrounded by light coming from a chrome-plated lamp above his head, his reflection abruptly blocked by a white stone gargoyle his wife had bought and set at a carefully chosen angle among some leafy plants she had […]
Twenty first century headlines This story like many stories starts with a bullet and ends with tears and justice deferred