in all honesty i possess eleven fingers, outside of honesty too. it's a clumpcloddy finger, the
E-MAIL TO THE INFINITECarlos Bedoya
God, do not ask me for patience.
Perhaps everything is already dead.
Well, I didn’t
Split scenes without hidden meanings . . .
now we’re here, why not check your
EACH ENTRY INTO YOUR BODYJulián Malatesta
Each entry into your body
Is a new voyage into known territory.
A landscape of ancient
My love, I give you my inner ear,
defective from birth, the right ear in which high notes
I desired, blind breath, as of hope
the most fervent
You return. You leave the shore. You
Round, frozen in its oceans, transparent
like a cell under the microscope
an ant goes
dragging a butterfly wing
She raised a finger
Excuse me, teacher!
If the holy cow slips
EASTERMaria van Daalen
Someone must be the witness
and arise when the body can no longer take the sorrow.
EASTER IN THE OVENKiki Dimoula
The goat kept on bleating hoarsely.
I angrily opened the oven what’s all the noise I asked
EASTER SATURDAYMiguel Iriarte
It is mid-morning on a Saturday that will bring its surprises
And she has gone out to look
EATING OUTAnne Vegter
You can best do things with pleasure
you would otherwise do with pleasure.
ECCE HOMOManuel de Freitas
I’d never woken up in a place like that – a hovel past
all imagining, near the gothic city of
ECLIPSEHugo Jamioy Juagibioy
The sun boy runs adolescent
he wants to catch up with the moon;
the girl moon
Like a tomato hiding on the edge of a steelyard he is always
lying down. Something flashes past,
Why this loved formula comes back
“At the edge of the world once more”
What is edge, what is
EFEB WITH CYPRIPEDIUMSimona Popescu
Sweet ephebe, dear good friend,
shall I compare thee to what?
There’s nothing to
The body scrapes the waves,
too much too much to bear in a
EIGHTH. 2Roberto Juarroz
Words too fall to the ground,
like birds suddenly driven crazy
by their own
EIGHTH. 72Roberto Juarroz
Which to erase first:
shadow or body,
the word written yesterday
or the word
EIN LEBENDan Pagis
In the month of her death, she is standing by the windowframe,
a young woman with a stylish,
Vulcan’s black lizard of Jabuka Island, volcanic Avalon, shapeshifts into a
ELECTRIC FIELDJun Er
computer, telephone, mobile
lighting, plugs, charger for the mobile
here I am, sitting in my
ELECTRIC LOCKShang Qin
Tonight the streetlights where I live went out at midnight as usual.
While I looked for my
ELECTRIC LOCKShang Ch'in
Tonight the streetlights where I live went out at midnight as usual.
While I looked
a letter opens, someone says:
the weather’s turned cold
another letter opens
ELEGYMaría Mercedes Carranza
I was walking looking at the sky
and I fell on my nose.
Now my whole body is bleeding.
O . . . do you remember that year ?
Great longing is still in the eyes.
Our homes don’t lodge the future. It gets lost
among the trees and midnight. Naked
Sunday in the country.
You smoke, you look out of the window,
linden trees in front of
A very sad vehicle
Stopped in the street.
On worn-out tyres
It stopped for a few
ELEGYTorgeir Rebolledo Pedersen
Life’s a trap
At worst a mass grave, at best a graveyard
Each alone and each
ELEGY FOR LOVEHassan El Ouazzani
did not regain its nest. Amazement
did not depart from its shadow. The star
ELEGY FOR MY FATHEREduardo Cote Lamus
Once he lay down, he took to dying as
he had formerly taken to living,
to cutting down
ELEGY OF WATERVasyl Makhno
Every rainbow drinks water – and fish fly in the wind.
Deep oceans of the world –
If every instant’s an obscure beginning
of aftermath that only after centuries
I dreamed about an elephant.
With its long, wrinkled trunk
covered with short,
The coffin doesn’t fit
In the elevator
Let’s keep it vertical
ELEVENTH. 1.3 Roberto Juarroz
A writing that withstands bad weather,
that can be read beneath sun or rain,
ELEVENTH. IV.22Roberto Juarroz
You have to dig up the sources.
You have to dig up the sources
and find what is
A bed and a table and a chair and a lamp
And I said Elisha.
A bed and a
ELKJan Erik Vold
You may call me an
elk. I am
no elk but I
I’d like to live Elsewhere.
In hand-embroidered towns.
To meet those
In the end when cities
but rubble search
through your home
Those edifices of the industrial era, whose sadness
is only contested by our tourist
the bright day is late, but still light
no fibre paths between zero and one
save the pull
Where do the eyes look? A distant question.
The thinking fetus leans on its unfinished
EMILY’S EYES OVER AMHERSTClaudiu Komartin
This night does not know the words of introduction
This night with little robots and
One morning I awoke empty
There remained not the slightest trace of me
My shoes are empty, aha, empty are my shoes
white salt lines visible on cracked leather
EMULATORSMargarida Vale de Gato
Was it circus or siege, gesture or style
the act of embracing? was it candor
I speak to you from a nameless place
Where your face appears amongst waves of gold
The city hung out its gray streets, sugar
swirled over the railroad tracks, one night.
ENCOUNTERTeixeira de Pascoaes
My living encounter with the humble
Things of Nature gives birth to souls,
END OF THE LINELouis De Paor
It won’t do you anymore,
the slit skintight dress
that measured in your eyes only
ENDOCRINE LYRICDamir Šodan
In 1934, having lost his patroness
who for forty years supported his writing
ENEMIES OF LOVEAbdel-ilah Salhi
Ideology left us, my friend, at the city entrance
in a narrow alley between fortune and
The way people fly
in old engravings, so clear-cut
ENIGMA FOR SEVEN COLORSFernando Denis
The dream is the dream of hexameters, where the sea
Burns with more felicity than all the
ENORMOUS APPETITESong Xiaoxian
on highways in the north of China
trucks loaded with chickens from Hunan
beef cattle from
ENOUGH ALREADY!Elke Erb
Am I waking up? Where are
my circumstances? Around me? What-
ever must be?
ENOUGH I POETRYSasja Janssen
You wanted to see, what I had become.
Was it the children, they screamed
your dreams on
I sat on your lap.
You were not my father.
I was not your daughter.
You were not my
My verses stand gawping a bit.
I never get used to this. They’ve lived here
I notice certain endless-eternal things:
heavens, oceans, grasslands, grass-eating
mama you’ve b’n on my mind
EPIGRAM OF POWERJuan Manuel Roca
With crowns of snow under the sun
The Kings go
the sky is blue; a
week; the sky is blue; a month; the sky is blue; a
I have a love who’s as old as my self.
She cannot die as long as I’m not dead.
O walker, leave the path a while,
sit among the berry trees and vines,
water and trees and
The best died in epidemics: some
went by the plague, others by the flu
EPITAPHIgnatius T. Mabasa
We silently walk to the cemetery
We, pall-bearers of our own coffins
We used to
EPITAPHGert Vlok Nel
Last night I dreamed that I was living in 1975 again, the year
when I was last happy. Then I
We should in equal measure
lie to each other
In equal measure
who can anger him,
when he no longer gives a damn
about life and death
ERBARME DICHMaria Barnas
An Englishman with gorgeous eyes is tuning my piano.
I’m going to do it very carefully, he
From this Valkenburg have I run away
and in my thoughts return to Gordon’s Bay:
ESSAY ON SOAPJan Wagner
one piece was always nearby,
followed its own phases,
diminishing like almost
ESTORAQUESEduardo Cote Lamus
The wind that comes and the wind that goes
are actually unrelated to time.
The time in
ESTRANGEMENT, ANDNirendranath Chakravarti
There’s moss a little below the surface of the water,
you can see it if you lean just
ETERNAL CYPRESSESXi Chuan
Some day I will sleep forever without waking
Never again will I see the cypresses of the
ready for mustaches
unpleasant to touch
i’m not sleepy
it just a phase
ETHEREAL MATERIALMirta Rosenberg
My children are by far my greatest revolution.
Twice I orbited complete
I stand before the sea, before its waves,
before the tides stirred by September, before the
EUROPE IN ROTTERDAMNuno Júdice
The heart of Europe is hurting me, with its veins swollen
by the wind out of the West, and
When I come
I will not be singing,
I will simply be there.
I will be light
EUTHANASIAHassan El Ouazzani
Because I am allied to all this dust. Because my heart is full
of wilderness. Because I am a
EVEN THIS LITTLEMark Boog
Even this little could burn.
From the ashes nothing
rises, an empty bird,
EVEN WITHOUT GODKedarnath Singh
How strange it is
that at ten in the morning
the world is still going about its
How effeminate is the sun?
A dab of collyrium
In its eyes
And the world is
I was about to say
but haven’t said anything
White rocks, multitudinous wharf roaches scatter.
It’s a lonely, darkening shore.
. . .
EVENINGNachoem M. Wijnberg
Cavafy writes about a young man
who didn’t yet know what kind of career he wanted,
EVENING AND MORNING IJos De Haes
Things I’ve never understood,
not the dynamo, not hate,
not the skill of a pinch that
EVENING IN DÚN LAOGHAIREMiriam Van hee
the lady from latvia recounted
how the people ended up where they did:
EVERY BREATH YOU TAKEBarbara Korun
And then the voice says: Shut down your reason, spread your
wings and soar across the sky.
EVERY TEAR A MINUSRamsey Nasr
the flowers used to know exactly
when and where young germans
with deeply wounded
By the ditch’s side I am sprouting udders,
in the air feathers stick into my skin.
The sun arrives raising my hopes
And the need to buy more newspapers.
EVERYDAY GODKazue Shinkawa
Can there be anything like a simple, pure act? A virtue like gentleness that doesn’t hurt
EVERYONE IS HEREJan Baeke
Not a sound. Not a single sound.
Something in the mechanism had been moved
as a result
Let the wind blow from a fisherman’s mouth,
from the span of a sail to the shell of a boat,
EVERYTHING IS NEWEsther Jansma
What was going to happen was already here,
spelt out precisely by a cup which
EVERYTHING'S FINEAnat Zecharya
They ask: what
have you been doing lately?
I answer: waving castanets in the air
EVIDENCENguyễn Tiên Hoàng
Now Found Guilty
[stamped, by the highest Authority in Region]
Brushed suddenly by the shadow
Of what she’s just said “That heats up
Once I was a Paleolithic painter, a sensual hunter
Fallen silent against the wall it makes another – a
EXACTLY THAT MUCHNachoem M. Wijnberg
Waving a beggar aside, but still giving him what he’s asking for
EXALTATIONS IN SLEEPDurs Grünbein
How deep we sink when the light goes out
and the heaviness falls from our shoulders.
EXAMPLEArmando Orozco Tovar
In the struggle has to be victory
hidden in forms,
like the face
EXAMPLEEster Naomi Perquin
In one day you can do it all: fall in love with a man,
smile and scoff at yourself several
They want me to leave like I did not want to leave
So I tell them I am leaving
High up the cranes swing round
and down below there’s a criss-cross
traffic of sirens
EXCEPT FOR YOUJosé Tolentino Mendonça
What’s said about winter may be said about youth
it’s an abstract season
at a certain
EXCERPTS FROM TIME BABAZali Gurevitch
everyone wants their feet
on the ground; but what about
being in the air; on the ground
in Nässjö, in a park by a lake
a black headscarf fails to wrap away her beauty—
Be it a misty morning
or drizzling on the night flower
Be it sunny
EXERCISE IN ECSTASYMark van Tongele
Lie on your back on the arch of the sky, senses
free in the sun, and let your head dangle
we have made it
back to the room.
EXIT TO THE SEAMeir Wieseltier
Once there was a woman.
She was very old.
For seventy-five years
EXIT WITHOUT EMERGENCYLuis Eduardo Rendón
I can no longer remember the umbilical cord that choked me in the first
To be alone is not enough
silence and stillness are not enough either
I listen to the
Lying in bed during the long
foreign nights, I dwell on you,
Tel Aviv, and my
They grab a gown in which there is
no longer anyone – because of expropriation!
EXTENDED PLAYRăzvan Ţupa
at first you can’t believe that a man changes his face every two minutes and you see only
Just because I didn't light a match, did you think there was no fire?
Why should I declare
EXTREME UNCTIONManuel António Pina
A brief and affable sorrow
surfacing in the eyes, a distant disappointment,
you died as
With sunlight, one morning, I saw how
your own strength has stopped you here,
EYESVasant Abaji Dahake
A night like opium
when the moonlight moans through the water,
that’s how your eyes
EYES AND FINGERSShoichiro Iwakiri
A child is
with her fingers
storing away light