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rob mclennan :: from the book of smaller

My family’s all in bed

Translating: five full years. Perhaps we may wake, we may sleep; invent a new set of words. I can remember this life; a deep breath. A notebook, misplaced. Scratch a line down. Wonder: how can one describe, the making of art? Tell me what you need. Engage newspaper, coffee, the kettle. The eastern face, shines. House: a stitch of black cloth. The impossibility of experiment. Troubleshoot. Based on a true story, incorrectly transcribed. Five minutes of silence.

Jennifer Kronovet, translated

Each language we wish to release. I drag the letter. Counted. Syntax is important. Not all sentences can be evaluated. Everything depends upon. Autumn in New York; springtime in Berlin. It does not equal. They say beauty contains the root of space. Can you hear me, now? The Chinese chamber, echoes. Leaving voice to silence. Made of words, this passage. Puncture. Soars across great distances. I call you. Leap. A single, bound.

Twenty-first century literature

Today, I am not writing. A book opens, is closed. Unwinds. I should read more. Old habits won’t save us. We have to build new ones. Orpheus, turns toward Lot. They turn on each other. All my ideas, outdated. We can make space. Such motivating force. If there is a sky I can’t place it.

The author of more than thirty trade books of poetry, fiction and non-fiction, rob mclennan’s most recent titles include the poetry collection A perimeter (New Star Books, 2016) and the chapbooks Cervantes’ bones (words(on)pages, 2017), Household items (Apostrophe Press, 2017) and It’s still winter (above/ground press, 2017). This fall, he has two further chapbooks forthcoming— Imaginary stories (fiction, DevilHousePress) and Sex at Forty-Five (poetry, The Blasted Tree)—with two other full-length poetry titles forthcoming as well: Life Sentence (Flat Singles Press, 2018) and Household items (Salmon Poetry, 2018). He spent the 2007-8 academic year in Edmonton as writer-in-residence at the University of Alberta, and regularly posts reviews, essays, interviews and other notices at

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submissions :: where is the river

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All rights revert to the author/s upon publication.

Elidio La Torre Lagares :: Six poems

walking in Rome
male cicadas foretell the sun
the distance of rain as we walk
through Rome on the 25th of July:
the history of Empire

i touch the breath of fireinside
my mouth birds peck at
dormant words under my steps

roads lead into alibis for an idea of time
when tutte strada vanno a Roma

lady Cicadas, on the other hand, treasure
silence around the marbled stories
of Villa Burghese

Sophie walks beside me painting
the air longing dreams
the world conforms a canvasher voice
a ripe fruit that floats
on the Roman landscape

from the hills of Villa Medici the city
spreads like the wings of an eagle of light
constantly diffusing emergingsomehow
the impending clearance of dependences
melts with the gradation of memories the precise
clockwork of stages

with loss and life to gain

clouds travel homeless


The Roman Colosseum-
round as a certainty
or the eye of a hurricane-
was once one of the
seventh wonders
of the world. But, little
is known of it compared
to the years it has outlasted
time and earth…

about :: where is the river

where is the river :: a poetry experiment is a bi-monthly poetry journal open to a variety of aesthetics, forms and experiences, with a preference towards showcasing work by emerging writers. There is no single path, nor any single way. Founded in September 2017. Edited by Kiefer JD Logan.