Kristina Hayes: Now That You're 21

These years will be glamorous—all the
magazines say so. You’ll learn what not
to mix tequila with, what shoes to pair
with that dress, what your default lipstick

will be, the book and movie and song
that will save you after every failed relationship,
each summer-at-the-beach fling. You will learn
the measure of patience and most important,

how to be alone. You will collect lonely like
some people collect stamps, and you will
learn to keep the light on for it, because lonely
needs company, too. You

will learn that self-love is not
dragging a random from the bar home to
sleep in your bed, but that it
is making your bed before you leave the
house for the night.

On these nights, you’ll stumble home—drunk,
in a dress that clings to you like a second skin
and shut the bathroom door behind you,
tired heels hanging from your hand
as you get down on your knees in front
of the toilet. You’ll greet it like an old

friend or a past lover, wrap your arms
around its porcelain neck and
whisper apologies after vomiting all of
your awful down its throat.

And then there will be boys, gloriously pale
boys whose veins you can count at the
wrists and jugular, boys buying you drinks,
handing you a cigarette despite your
refusals, leading you with your hands
twined down the street in a city
whose name tastes like smoke

in your mouth. Boys with coffee eyes
asking you if that seat is taken. Boys
who look like sin as they shrug themselves
out of their leather jackets. Boys

your mother warned you about. Boys
your father keeps a knife in the drawer for.

Boys who will break your heart, leave
you for dead on the side of the street and
you, not knowing what to do or say to
keep it from happening all over again.

Soak in these years like sunlight. Re-position
the needle over the vibrancy of your youth. Get
up from the lawn, brush the grass from your
kneecaps. Hail a taxi.

Find your way home.

Kelly Lenox: Doing Violence to the Language: Mountaintop Removal

In a vi(olent)tal moment

all lan(guage)d

is called mi(ne)ne—

not the ki(ndling)nd

that opens de(nature)ep

into Earth, ra(pe)ther

the Earth is for(gotten)cibly removed

from its unde(velopment)rpinnings,

blasted so the lig(ament)ht

of day sh(rieks)ines

on se(crets)questered minerals.

Pull the threa(t)d

of fuel. Fi(nance)ll

the hoppers of the po(wer)or.

No one should brea(ch)the

that dust, with its par(asites)ticulates

that travel d(ementia)irectly

to the ne(utralize)urons

and plu(nder)g them

like hai(l Mary)r in the drain.

Faith Shearin: Scurvy

When sailors crossed the oceans

their gums bled and their teeth

grew as loose as screen doors

in the wind. They ate old biscuits

and salted meats and bruises

appeared like stains over

their bodies and then they began

unhealing: the arm they broke

as a child when they fell from

a tree unmended and the gash

in their knee when they were thrown

from a horse reopened. All the old

wounds were new, as if

time had undone itself, as if

each injury is permanent,

just waiting to show itself again.

It was worse the second time,

not having fallen from a tree

or horse, but suffering anyway,

in the middle of the ocean, where,

for weeks, no land was visible.

Kormányos Sándor: A mi csendünk

A mi csendünk az csendesebb

mint bárki mások csendje,

a mi csendünk az olyan mintha

folyton csendesedne,

s mennél halkabb annál jobban

lehet hallani,

és úgy üvölt, hogy néha már

ki kell mondani

Ellen Bass: The World Has Need of You

everything here seems to need us…

—Rilke

I can hardly imagine it

as I walk to the lighthouse, feeling the ancient

prayer of my arms swinging

in counterpoint to my feet.

Here I am, suspended

between the sidewalk and twilight,

the sky dimming so fast it seems alive.

What if you felt the invisible

tug between you and everything?

A boy on a bicycle rides by,

his white shirt open, flaring

behind him like wings.

It’s a hard time to be human. We know too much

and too little. Does the breeze need us?

The cliffs? The gulls?

If you’ve managed to do one good thing,

the ocean doesn’t care.

But when Newton’s apple fell toward the earth,

the earth, ever so slightly, fell

toward the apple as well.

Várady Szabolcs: Dallampróba

Nem az én szavam

nem az én szivem

nem a vége van

csak az elhiszem

csak az add tovább

csak a hagyd minek

csak a túlvilág

csak a nem hiszek

de ha itt vagyok

de ha nem leszek

de ha felragyog

de ha senkinek

Juan J. Morales: Puerto Rico Goes Dark

The New York Times, September 20, 2017

As dark as the busy signal my father gets when calling his brothers and sister on the southwest part of the island.

As dark as the 95% of electricity blinking and then staying off.

As the empty grocery aisles where they used to store water, bread, milk, and cereal.

As the unanswered Facebook messages to my primos.

As the colonial  Jones Act in place, longer than a century, lifted for only ten days.

As Pitbull’s private plane back and forth to deliver the goods for the people.

As the money sent to them on PayPal with receipts proving they only bought items on the survival list.

As the familia having a BBQ to use up what will spoil and what has to be cooked right now.

As dark as the swirl of the storm’s eye we watched from the mainland, thick red circle consuming the entire island under the name “Maria, Category 4.”

As the people who fight about to kneel or not to kneel in the NFL.

As the people who don’t understand PR is a commonwealth, its residents powerless US citizens.

As the four major airlines willing to gouge a plane ticket up to $1,600, $1,800, and $2,000.

As me posting more prayers for PR, with a handful of likes.

As El Yunque’s trees splintered and thrown into the void.

As the boricuas who hike each Saturday to the crossroad, near the last standing cell tower, making phone calls to the list of people from town until the signal goes out again.

As someone’s sarcasm, saying, “For once, I’m glad I have AT&T.”

As the dismantled ports full of tangled boats trying to deliver supplies.

As the decade’s worth of infrastructure that needed updating a decade ago, all washed away.

As dark as smaller Caribbean islands, wiped out.

As helpless as someone making plans to donate blood next week.

As dark as my father again, assuming everyone’s okay, but needing to hear from anyone.

As the airport in San Juan down to a handful of functioning gates.

As the thickest miles of trees now a flat, unobstructed view of the favorite beach.

As Mexico City after its earthquake last week, and Houston and Harvey a few weeks before.

As a still-hidden gem the world doesn’t visit.

As exhausted as my friend, here in Pueblo, on the phone with everyone, except his father, who is helping to clean up the neighborhood.

As me, finally becoming speechless for once.

As the flicker of  hospital generators running on diesel.

As the president complaining that “these people want everything done for them.”

As dark as the complexion of the people, making them less important to the government.

As the hole where the coquís still whistle.

As the quick phone call from a prima who tells me they’re okay and then asks, “Where do we start to rebuild?”

As dark as the news broadcasts moving on to talk about the rest of the world in the dark.

Katie Farris: Rachel's Chair

Once, many

years ago, we made

love at a friend’s

house. We were over-

night guests, not

perverts (on the whole)

but what I am

trying to say is she

owned a chair so

perfect for lovemaking

we joked about asking

to take it home. If

I had only known then

how rarely we would find

such objects

I would have.

Dunajcsik Mátyás: Herbsttag

Ad notam Parti Nagy Lajos: Egy hosszú kávé

Fejemet a Herbsttag ölébe hajtom,

ahogy itt ülök kinn, de nem a balkon,

hosszú kávé sincs, csak bodzaszörp:

felszáll a füst, és már szinte hallom,

ahogy a föld alá levénült, elsöpört

avar zeng, akár az alkony.

A cigaretta füstje billeg, elszáll,

akár a légbe kékült, kondenzált ökörnyál,

és az íze inkább a költött hosszú kávé,

betestesült, barokkosabb az őszi bornál,

és nem az évszaké, csak a drapp halálé,

ahogy a kertben ázva kószál.

Pedig szép itt a Herbsttag, mint a gazda,

aki szép lassan őszül bele a tavaszba,

s hogy legyen hova rakni ásót és gereblyét,

a ház falát egy kérges sufnival tapasztja,

míg a homlokára ráncul az öröklét,

akár a seb a sebtapaszra.

Szép itt a Herbsttag, ahonnan úgy hiányzol,

akár a napfény a parkok homlokáról,

hisz csak neked, ha egyszer még, ha egyszer

lehetne még ház, meg allé, csipkefátyol –

borulna, mint az ég, a téli rendszer,

s a hold is, mit egyszer szakadt zsebembe varrtak,

kisütne még a barna nagykabátból.

Judith Ortiz Cofer: Esperanza

My name mocks me

for I was born at the cost

of my mother’s life,

earning my father’s hatred

with my first breath.

All my life

I have scoured a house soiled

with the thick soot of his resentment.

It has left its mark on the walls,

in his eyes, and on me.

All of it I have tried to wipe away.

In my hands I hold a broom,

in my heart—

ashes, ashes.

Székely Szabolcs: Ceruzavázlat

Galambraj mögött kopott térzenész.

Cipője talpán égbolt-ütem.

Dallamot vált, közben félrenéz.

Nélküled. Nélkülem.

Megáll a nyár, amíg hangol.

Emelkedik a hang a hanghoz.

Átnövök lassan önmagamból –

önmagamhoz.

Friedrich Nietzsche: Most így akarom

Most így akarom,

és mióta így akarom,

minden kedvem szerint van -

ez volt legmélyebb okosságom:

azt akartam, amit muszáj,

lebírtam így minden muszájt

azóta nincs nekem muszáj…

Weöres Sándor: Szembe-fordított tükrök

Örömöm sokszorozódjék a te örömödben.

Hiányosságom váljék jósággá benned.

Egyetlen parancs van, a többi csak tanács: igyekezz úgy érezni, gondolkozni, cselekedni, hogy mindennek javára legyél.

Egyetlen ismeret van, a többi csak toldás: Alattad a föld, fölötted az ég, benned a létra.

Az igazság nem mondatokban rejlik, hanem a torzítatlan létezésben.

Az öröklét nem az időben rejlik, hanem az összhang állapotában.

Hal Sirowitz: We were putting on a show

I was kissing your neck in the park.

You said the couple sitting across from us

was watching the whole time. But they

definitely weren't learning anything. They kept

sitting there not touching, with their arms folded.