salsa meditation
my hands will smell for days of onions, garlic and jalapeños despite repeated washings after slicing, dicing and mincing with my trusty lid-o-matic and plastic picnic knife essential utensils of a prison… More
The Dead Republic
Model Ts prowling the country, men in trenchcoats moving in to kill me. But the Civil War was three decades gone, and it was just a Limerick taxi. I… More
Joe Speedboat
It’s been a warm spring. At school they’re praying for me, because I’ve been out of it for more than two hundred days. I’ve got bedsores all over my body… More
dona malva and senhor jose ferreiro
dona malva had prayed so fervently that her dead husband would come back, she’d wished for this so passionately, that she started hearing voices coming from the attic one… More
A Collaborator in Kashmir
After flights from Delhi to Jammu and then on to Srinagar, I rode north in a taxi to Sopore, closer to the Pakistan border. I’d come to Kashmir to meet… More
End of the Game
End of the GameThe lovers passed through, downcast, disgraced by their untimely rhapsodies. The alleys were left with no murmurs and no sound of footsteps. The soldiers passed by, shattered, weary on scrawny horses, faded rags of ousted… More
Two-Tongued Tale
Some years ago, I began hearing voices, my own to be precise. It started with a scream. No, I’m not delusional. This is how it happened. Having had a… More
Autopsy Reports
Hi, I’m __________________. I am reading excerpts from a series of autopsy and death reports of detainees who died in U.S. custody in Iraq and Afghanistan.Autopsy Number: AO3-51.Date of… More
On Title and Talk
In translating Robert Musil’s The Man without Qualities, Sophie Wilkins and I had great trouble finding equivalents for the infinitely subtle and nuanced gradations of title and talk in… More
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